


Mission Five

by indigo (indigo_angels)



Series: Mission Arc [8]
Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 80,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_angels/pseuds/indigo
Summary: The fifth mission for Hannibal's team as we know it, and that team dynamic is not quite there yet. It's also a long and twisty one.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for some death and violence (not major characters) and inter-team disputes as they are settling into their roles and making relationships.

“Retreat!” Face snapped, his voice sounding oddly flat in the thick mist of the night.

 

“What!?” BA’s incredulous retort however was perfectly clear.

 

“Fucking retreat!” Face yelled back, “Now, Corporal, move your ass!”

 

BA didn’t move and Face was forced to halt his own feet and turn to stare back at his teammates.

 

“They got the boss, man!” BA hissed at him, “And we don't leave no one behind!”

 

In three furious strides Face was right in BA’s personal space, almost nose to nose with the big guy, “Yes, they got the boss,” his voice a dangerous whisper, “Which makes me in command now, so follow my orders and fucking retreat!”

 

BA adjusted his grip on the semi-conscious Murdock and leant right into his XO’s face, “We don’t leave no one behind!”

 

For a second Face didn’t move, but then he whipped his hand gun up and into BA’s face, his expression cold as ice, “You follow my orders or I take the Captain and put a bullet through your leg. Your choice BA.”

 

The stand-off was as dangerous as each of its components and for a horrific moment Face thought he was going to be called upon to follow through with his threat but then BA barrelled past him, almost shoving him to the ground as he went, dragging Murdock with him, “You a piece of fucking shit, Faceman!” he spat as he passed.

 

Face only narrowed his eyes, took one last glimpse of the huge wooden house, built to house some rich Russian aristocrat back when the empire was at its strongest, now a rotting ruin of its former glory and took off after what remained of his team.

 

Twenty minutes of yomping found them back at the jeep. Face had only spoken once, to ask if BA needed a hand with Murdock, and since BA didn’t respond in the slightest, he hadn’t bothered again.

 

BA helped a slightly more sentient Murdock into the back of the jeep before stamping around and ramming himself into the driver’s seat. Face, still trying to make sure that he had covered their tracks was forced to sprint after their vehicle, throwing himself in the back next to Murdock as BA simply took off in a shower of dirt with clearly little intention of waiting for his XO.

 

Face only sighed and gathered a quiet and worried looking Murdock into his arms, staring out of the back of the jeep as BA’s furious driving took him further and further away from his boss.

 

It was a forty minute drive back to the old trapper’s cabin they were using as a base. No one spoke the entire trip back, but at least Murdock looked to be completely back with them by the time BA screeched to a halt outside the tiny wooden shack. He threw open the driver’s door and stamped around to the back of the jeep, just about hauling Murdock out and across the mud to the door. Face lay back for a minute, letting the silence fill him as he stared out at the fog shrouded forest all around them, how the fuck BA had even found his way back here, Face had no idea at all. His heart was still hammering, he knew that Murdock, ear pressed to his chest the whole way back, must have been able to hear it, and he wondered if it would ever settle before they got Hannibal back. And they _would_ get Hannibal back, he was damn sure of that. He just didn’t know how yet.

 

The silence was comforting and Face considered staying the night out in the jeep. He had no desire to return, alone, to the cot that he and Hannibal had shared for the past three nights, and he had less desire to have to face up to BA’s anger all night. But. He was CO now, he had a responsibility, Hannibal expected things from him, and if there was one thing Face never did, it was disappoint Hannibal.

 

He sighed long and hard before dragging his aching bones out of the jeep and trudging back to the cabin.

 

 

 

 

Face expected BA to be in one of the foulest moods known to men. What he didn’t expect was the big guy to seize him by the throat the second he stepped in the room and throw him so hard against the wall that he heard the sound of splintering wood.

 

“What you go and make us leave the boss behind for, Face?!” Blinking through the pain fogging his eyes, Face could see the utter fury in BA’s expression, “We don’t never leave a man behind! Never!”

 

Fingers ineffectually scrabbling at BA’s iron grip, Face eventually gave up and chopped both of his hands down into the juncture of BA’s neck and shoulders, shocking and hurting the big guy enough that he let go and Face staggered out of his grasp.

 

“You a coward, Face!” BA spat, one hand rubbing his neck, the other stabbing an accusing finger in his XO’s chest.

 

Face held back the right cross that his arm was desperate to swing at BA and stepped forward instead, fists clenched at his sides, “We had no choice, BA! We were compromised! We had to make a tactical retreat!”

 

“Fuck tactical retreat!” BA hardly ever swore, “You was scared man, so you run! Leaving the boss in the shit!”  

 

“We were outnumbered!” Face retorted hotly, “Murdock was out cold. We had no idea where they had taken the boss! Hell, BA, we don't even who the fuck these bastards really are!”

 

“He wouldn’t have left you.”

 

The line was delivered coldly. It was calculated to cause maximum pain and it hit its mark squarely. For a second, Face sagged so much he almost went down, but just as Murdock reached for him, he caught himself and straightened, looking BA right in the eye, “I don’t give a fuck what you think,” he asserted, “All I know is that I am in charge now, and you do what I say.”

 

They stared each other down.

 

“We regroup, we plan and then we go back and get the boss the hell out of there. But we do it my way,” there was nothing but hostility in Face’s eyes, “You got that Baracus?”

 

For a moment, it looked as if BA were setting up for round two of the argument, but Murdock’s soft voice simply saying, “Bosco...” stopped him and he made do with the smallest of tight nods instead.

 

Face suddenly looked and felt exhausted. He spared one solitary glance for the rumpled sheets spread over the two cots Hannibal had pushed together on their first night here, and then went straight through to the back room where all the photos, maps and intel were spread all over the table, taped to the walls, scattered across the chairs. Surreptitiously scooping up the little army commando that Hannibal used as his marker for the plan and holding it tight in his fist, Face spoke to the others without looking at them. “BA, you take first watch, come for me in two hours to take over. Murdock, you need to get some rest, you can go last.”

 

Then turning his back on the others he looked down at the remains of Hannibal’s ill fated plan and started scrabbling around in his brain for one of his own.

 

_____________

 

BA seethed as he walked the dark and silent perimeter; he still couldn’t believe that Face could be so cowardly and shallow. When he’d first met Lt. Peck that fateful day in Mexico, he had been far from impressed. His reckless stupidity had endangered both the mission and Hannibal’s life. And because Hannibal had been so desperate to save his worthless ass, BA had ended up with a bullet hole in his arm and a pancaked van. Then, when they had snatched him at the very last minute from the flames of his own funeral pyre, he was so buzzed up that he thought the whole thing was some brilliant joke. When he didn’t have his tongue down the throat of Tuco’s wife that was.

 

BA had wondered what someone as obviously brilliant as Colonel Hannibal Smith was doing with such a waste of space as Peck for his XO. His question had been answered about three months in when he and Murdock had returned to their shared quarters to find Hannibal nailing Face’s ass over the kitchen table... Hannibal had been utterly mortified while Face, rather predictably, thought it was some huge joke. BA had been more than a little shocked, more at the reaction of his dick at the sight than anything else, while Murdock had just nodded serenely on his way to switch the TV on and asked them to keep it down at bit.

 

So, now BA understood that the boss just kept Peck around to satisfy his more intimate needs, which was weird but at least it cleared everything up. And BA supposed that Face could hold up his end of a mission when he needed to. They’d only been out a few times so far and Face had been pretty quiet, sticking close to the boss most of the time, but at least he hadn’t done anything that got any of them into trouble. Until tonight of course.

 

As BA checked and rechecked the silent forest around him, he pondered what exactly it was that had made him so damn furious that they had left Hannibal behind. He conceded that Face had made a few good points, they were outnumbered, caught well on the back foot, and Murdock had been knocked out cold when BA had dived on him as machine gun fire suddenly raked their position. Given those circumstances, it actually did make sense to pull a tactical retreat and regroup. So, why did BA feel so royally pissed about the whole thing?

 

The answer hit him an hour and forty minutes into his watch and it was exactly what he had said to Face earlier on, _‘He wouldn’t have left you.’_ And that was it. Hannibal would _not_ have left Face. BA would have had to drag him, bodily away from the damn kid to make him leave. Anyone willing to shoot a perfectly innocent civilian just to make sure they got to their damn fool XO in time to save his neck wasn’t going to turn tail and run out on him the second the bad guys snatched him in some godforsaken Russian forest. Why? Because the boss obviously had _feelings_ for the guy. Feelings that Face, clearly didn’t return.

 

BA felt that anger stir within him again as he managed to put into words exactly what it was that had made him so damn furious earlier on; Hannibal loved the kid, would do anything for him, while Face had turned tail and ran, forced the others to run too, the first second that the going got tough. The boss was a living legend and deserved far, far better than a pretty little coward like Face. He checked his watch again, ten minutes left on his watch and he sighed, well sod that, he and his cold, shallow XO were going to have a little chat...

 

It would have felt good to storm into the little cabin, throw the door open so wide it crashed into the wooden wall, make the whole damn place shake, but BA remembered Murdock and the guilt he already felt about nearly cracking the guy’s skull open as he tackled him over enthusiastically to the ground, tripled within him. Crazy needed his sleep, and BA would have to make his point with Face another way.

 

The door still creaked as BA slid in, but not enough to even make Murdock stir and, offering the sleeping pilot a smile, BA slipped straight through the first room and into the back, his anger bubbling just under the surface. The sight that met him, however, stopped him dead in his tracks. He had expected Face to be working, it was obvious when BA stormed out on his watch that Face was starting to go over the plan, seeing the lieutenant sprawled over the table, sound asleep, did nothing for his temper; until he looked more closely however.

 

Face had obviously fallen asleep as he worked, head dropping onto piles of paper with rough sketches, maps and diagrams scrawled all over them. A pencil was balanced loosely in the fingers of his right hand, while in his left – BA’s heart gave a little lurch – was the little soldier figure that Hannibal used as his token in the plan reveals, and even in sleep, Face’s fingers were so tight around the plastic figure that BA knew he would never be able to prise it from his XO even if he had wanted to. He looked up into his lieutenant’s face and again that tightening as he saw the red puffy eye lids, the obvious tracks of dried tears streaking down those far too pretty features.

 

The scene was enough to make BA stop and think. He still thought the guy was an asshole, still thought he was a coward for running out on the boss, but maybe, just maybe he did see Hannibal as something more than a ticket to ride.

 

Studying the pale, drawn skin, the dark circles under his eyes and those puffy red lids themselves, BA let out a short huff and came to a decision. Kid looked like shit, and he was the only one around here with enough experience in these types of things to be able to plan something that might just get the boss out in one piece. BA shook his head and turned back to the door. He could sleep in daylight, he’d let the kid have another couple of hours...  

 

_____________________

 

Face woke with a start and blinked around the sun filled room in confusion. It took him just a minute to piece everything back together, why he’d woken up cold and stiff in a wooden chair, head resting in all of his planning notes, why he wasn’t curled up next to Hannibal in one of the tiny cots that felt more natural to him than a bed. Hannibal... his stomach clenched and he had to fight the urge to vomit as his mind replayed that horrific minute last night as the plan all went to hell and those guys came from nowhere, showering Face and the others with machine gun fire as they dragged the boss away.

 

He wondered why BA hadn’t come to get him for the watch last night and figured it was just the big guy being completely arsey about the whole thing still. Jesus, as if Face wouldn’t have done anything, _absolutely fucking anything_ to get the boss back last night. If it had just been him, well, that was a different story, but he was CO now and had his men to think of, couldn’t let Hannibal down by getting them all shot to pieces in the first two minutes he was in charge. Whole night was just a pile of fucking crap. Had been much easier when it was just the two of them, Face had always known where he was then, who he could trust, what he needed to do, because they had lived in their world of two and in Face’s eyes it had been perfect.    

 

He tried to rub what felt like a tonne of grit from his sore eyes and remembered his embarrassing meltdown last night. The truth of the matter was that he just couldn’t think how the hell they could pull this off without Hannibal. They’d been surprised yesterday by the extra security that was in place around the old house, their intel had been completely inaccurate, but now that Face knew what was there he couldn’t think of a single damn way to get around it, and he knew Hannibal’s time was running out.

 

That’s what had brought on the tears, the utter terror that yet again he was about to lose the most important person in his life, and if that happened again, then he knew that there was no way on earth that he would be able to survive it. He was finished. And if something did happen to Hannibal then what would be the point in living anyway?

 

His eyes felt like they were on fire and all he really wanted was a hot shower with his lover, but he had to pull himself together and get on with this, because everything was resting on him now. He was just so relieved that no one had been around to see him fall to pieces last night; he could only imagine what BA would make of him then...

 

“Hey, muchacho,” Face jumped, horrified at being caught with his defeatist thoughts, and opened his eyes to see Murdock leaning in the doorway, arms folded and a careful expression on his face. “You okay?”

 

Face painted on one of his best false smiles and leant back in his chair, forcing himself to look relaxed, “Sure, buddy,” he answered, “It wasn’t me that almost got my head split open there last night, how are you doing?”

 

Murdock watched him for a moment before nodding slowly and offering up his own false smile, “Yeah, fine Faceman, just double hunky dory.”

 

Murdock’s expression didn’t falter in the slightest and Face had the most uncomfortable feeling that his act wasn’t fooling anyone at all here. Instead he rose to his feet determined to put some space between himself and the far too perceptive pilot by going for a leak and then to track some food down, “Where’s BA?” he asked, more as a way to cover the silence than for anything else.

 

Nodding at one of the cots Murdock moved out of Face’s way as he drifted past and Face glanced over, seeing the big guy sprawled out, fully clothed and fast asleep on top of his sleeping bag. “He kept watch all night,” Murdock explained following Face’s eyes, “let us get some sleep.”

 

Face nodded and wondered if that was BA’s real motivation, or rather he just didn’t want to speak to Face at the minute, never mind actually follow one of his orders. He wasn’t going to say that to Murdock, though, knew which way the captain would jump if he were pushed... Instead he patted him on the arm, and with a final glance at the sleeping BA, made his way outside.

 

__________________

 

As the sun passed the zenith point and started its long slow descent towards night, Face decided that he was as ready as he would ever be. Calling Murdock and BA into the room he took a deep breath before starting his briefing.

 

“Okay. This is going to be a tough one. We’ve already found out that most of our intel is crap, we have no idea how many of these guys there are, where they have the boss, or even why they have taken him.” He raised his eyes to carefully stare at his team.

 

Murdock was the fastest on the uptake, “What, you think those guys _deliberately_ took the boss?”

 

Face nodded. “Think about it guys, think about what happened last night, how they showered us with machine gun fire, but sent four guys with hand guns after the boss. They wanted to take him, if they’d wanted to kill him, he’d have got the same treatment we did.”

 

There was silence for a minute as this assertion was pondered on before Murdock spoke up again, “But that’s crazy, no one knew we were coming.”

 

Face raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“What? You think this was a _set up?_ ”

 

Again Face nodded, “Undoubtedly. Whoever these guys really are, they knew we were coming, they had a plan to separate us from the boss and they knew who they were prepared to kill and who they weren’t.”

 

Silence fell and BA’s scowl deepened.

 

“Shit, Face... we really are up against it here.”

 

Face let that thought sink in for a moment before continuing, “So, the trickiest bit is going to be getting into that house. If they know who we are and they know we got away, then they will be expecting us to come back for the boss. We already found out last night that that house is locked up tighter than a General’s sense of humour, and those flood lights on the roof light the whole area up brighter than a Christmas tree, so...” Face paused, suddenly nervous about his big reveal, “the only way we are going to get in, is going to be – from the roof.”

 

There was a beat of silence before BA, obviously forgetting that he wasn’t speaking to Face, piped up, “From the roof man? We not Santa Clause you know!”

 

“I know,” Face replied calmly, “and we’re not going in though the chimney, we are going in through the skylights, here,” he tapped one of the photos of the grand wooden house where Hannibal was being held prisoner.

 

“You missing the point, pretty boy,” BA muttered resting on his knuckles and leaning over the table towards Face, “Without Santa’s reindeer, we aint getting  _on_ that roof.”

 

Cracking out his best ingratiating smile, Face leaned even closer, “We’re Airborne Rangers, Bosco,” he whispered, “We don't need flying reindeer.”

 

This only seemed to confuse BA even more, “We aint got no plane though fool!” he objected, “How are we gonna get up so we can float down?!”

 

Face knew that most of BA’s increased tension was centred on his ever intensifying reluctance to fly, so tried his best, like Hannibal always did, to ignore it and carry on. “We don't need a plane,” he replied easily, pulling out a map from under his sketches, “’Cause look what we _do_ have, right here!”

 

He tapped his finger meaningfully and Murdock let out a long admiring whistle, “Oh, good thinking, Face my man, good thinking right there!”   

 

BA shook his head, “You crazier than the bossman if you think that’s gonna work...”

 

Face just levelled him with a flat stare. Of course it was going to work, it just fucking had to.

______________________

 

Hannibal shifted uncomfortably on the cold, damp concrete floor and felt the chains on his wrists bite into his flesh once more. They had been set up. It was as clear as day to him now, that someone, someone in the Army or Intelligence or even the fucking Rangers, had worked with these bastards to pull this off, to go to all this effort just to get hold of him.

 

He still wasn’t exactly sure what this whole thing was about, although he did have a rather uncomfortable possibility, and if he was right, then he was really in the shit. For about the thousandth time that day, he wondered where the boys were and if they were alright. The only time he’d seen a living soul since he’d been dragged down into this cellar right after they grabbed him, was when they brought some bread and water down midmorning and told him that his team were dead, riddled with machine gun fire and dropped into a hole in the forest. Hannibal managed to school his features into passive neutrality, even against the image of Face, skin white as snow, eyes open and starring, red bullet holes peppering his perfect body, insisted on swimming through his head.

 

He’d thought about nothing else for the rest of the morning, forcing himself to stay in one emotional piece as he considered this statement and the likelihood of it being true or not. Eventually, he decided on not. If the boys really were dead, and his captors wanted him to know about it, then they would have dragged at least one of the bodies down here to flaunt in front of him, maybe even leave it in here with him, remind him he was on his own. No bodies – no deaths. That was what Hannibal was choosing to believe and he was going to stick with it until he had evidence to the contrary.

 

He looked back up at the tiny patch of darkening sky just visible through his cellar window and went back to wondering what the boys were up to, and whether Face had come up with a plan to spring him yet.

 

_______________________

 

They parked the jeep at the end of the track and within minutes were loaded up and ready to go. Face adjusted his pack and turned to the others, eyes deadly serious. “Okay, guys, this is it. Retrieval mission. We all know the stakes, we all know the plan. If we get split up, keep to your end of the deal, but if you need to withdraw, then withdraw. If we take one more casualty then we will not be in a position to help anyone. That clear?” 

 

Murdock nodded and BA made a _humph_ sound that went straight to Face’s temper trigger. “Well, maybe if we’d hung around a bit last night we coulda done this then and saved us and the boss a whole loada trouble!”

 

Face turned on him in an instant. He was dressed head to toe in black, they all were, face blacked out and woollen beanie hiding the relative paleness of his hair. He was already starting to melt into the background as the light rapidly faded around him, but the one thing that he couldn’t hide were his eyes, and BA noticed them flashing even more brightly than usual due to the unusual darkness of his skin and wondered if he had ever seen Face quite so angry.

 

“If we had hung around last night, BA, then we would all be dead now,” he stared coldly at the Corporal, “and where would that leave the boss, huh?” BA narrowed his eyes. “This is a tough enough mission as it stands without you making it ten times worse by refusing to follow my fucking orders! So what’s it gonna be? You gonna do this and get the boss back, or are you gonna fight me and let us all die?”

 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as Face and BA stared each other down before Face noticed Murdock’s fingers slowly creeping forward to poke at the back pocket of BA’s combats. The big guy seemed to deflate a notch at that touch, although his eyes were still full of anger. “I’ll follow your plan, pretty boy,” he muttered, “only as long as I think it’s the best chance we have of getting the boss back. The second I think you’re running out on him again, you on your own. You got that? I aint following you like I follow the boss.”

 

Face considered him for a moment before nodding. Yeah, he was allowed that. Face knew damn well that BA didn’t respect him, hell, didn’t even like him much, so no, respect was never going to happen. “I’ll settle for grudging acceptance right now, Baracus,” he muttered in reply.

 

This brought a hint of a smile to the big guy’s lips and he nodded tersely, holding Face’s eyes in the twilight, “Grudging acceptance it is then, man,” he acknowledged, shouldering his own pack and moving out into the scrub.   

 

_________________

 

Face set a blistering pace that the others struggled to follow. He ran with the GPS in his hand, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and their surroundings as darkness fell around them. Without a moon or stars in the sky, or even a town within three hundred clicks, the darkness was complete and absolute.

 

Even with Face’s testing pace, it still took them thirty five minutes to reach the top of the escarpment and they were all blowing heavily by the time they crested the ridge and set about unpacking their chutes.

 

“You sure there’s enough wind for this?” Murdock had obviously tried to phrase his question in the most non-confrontational way possible, but still it instantly riled Face right up.

 

“Of course!” he hissed under his breath, “Or I wouldn’t be doing it now, would I? You think I don’t _want_ the boss back or something?”

 

Suddenly he felt Murdock’s hand on his arm, gentle but firm, “I know exactly how much you want him back, Face,” he murmured softly, “and that’s why I am asking.”

 

For a moment, Face almost drowned in the emotions those words stoked within him, but he swallowed it back and nodded, returning to his kit. “There’s plenty of wind, HM. And I know the kit isn’t ideal for paragliding, but that will work just fine as well.” They were using the chutes they came in on, fast and lightweight enough to double as a paraglide for those skilful enough to handle them.

 

Face was going first, “Okay, everyone got their coordinates?”

 

Murdock and BA nodded, “Set off right after me, and try to stay together. Remember the roof is quite sloped so be ready to hold on, and its wooden, so sound carries, right?”

 

Two heads nodded at him so he stood and adjusted his harness before taking a deep breath and running like all hell for the edge.

 

Murdock stood and watched him as he dipped, climbed and then was swallowed up by the black night before turning to BA. “Go easy on him, huh, big guy?”

 

BA raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“It’s not easy for him, you know.”

 

Watching as Murdock sprinted after Face before throwing himself into the air, BA shook his head, “No way I’da left you behind, crazy guy...” he muttered to himself as he tightened his own straps and prepared to take off.  

 

________________________

 

Face was waiting, virtually thrumming with anxiety, by the time Murdock landed lightly on the steeply pitched roof next to him and started hauling his chute in. “Where’s BA?” Face hissed helping Murdock stuff the reams of nylon into his backpack.

 

Murdock looked up into the night sky but could see nothing, “Just behind me, chill, man, he’ll be here.”

 

Grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, Face leant over the roof to stare down into hastily cleared space all around the house, currently patrolled by one solitary guard. He frowned and leaned further over, lying flat on his stomach, secure in the knowledge that he was hidden by the glare of the huge floodlights positioned on the walls just beneath him. He heard BA land behind him, incredibly quietly for such a big guy, but didn’t turn around, too preoccupied with the sight below him.

 

“Face!” Murdock appeared at his elbow, “We’re all here, muchacho, let’s move it!”

 

Face didn’t stir.

 

“Face!!”

 

“It’s not right,” Face responded, eyes glued below.

 

Murdock slid along next to him, his body a warm solid presence, helping Face to keep his focus and he too checked out the scene below, “That lorry wasn’t there before...” he muttered seeing immediately what Face had spotted, “What do you think that means?”

 

Pushing back up the wooden tiles, Face just narrowed his eyes, “I don’t know,” he muttered tightly, “But you’re right, we need to get moving.”

 

Silently following him, Murdock met BA’s dark stare. He knew that Face had a pretty good idea what the lorry’s presence meant, just like he and BA did. But somehow they were all thinking that if they didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be true...

 

Face slipped his knife out of its sheath and ran it around the edge of a skylight, levering it under the wooden frame and catching it with his fingers, lifting and opening until it reached the extent of its spread. He tested the gap and hissed in frustration through his teeth as he realised that the gap wasn’t big enough for even Murdock to slide through, never mind him or BA.

 

He flashed his eyes up at BA who instantly took the window from him and braced himself, jerking it up and back and breaking the hinges. Face was through the gap before BA had even had the chance to lie the window to one side, leaning in head first, Beretta held in front of him, before pulling up, reassured the attic was as empty as he expected it to be, and dropping through feet first instead. He lowered himself slowly in, taking all the weight on his arms, slowly extending until he was hanging only a foot from the floor. Taking a deep breath, he dropped, trying to cushion his fall as much as possible and deaden the noise throughout the rest of the house.

 

As soon as he hit the floor he dropped to one knee, gun, with suppressor already attached, pointing steadily at the door. He counted out four minutes before he moved, looking up through the skylight to where Murdock’s anxious face was just about visible, and signalling for them to follow him in. He helped them both drop in, ensuring they were as silent as possible, before heading over to the door.

 

Suddenly, it was as if his dispute with BA had never happened. They took up positions around the door without any conscious thought and moved through, each man backing up the other, covering the unknown, functioning on autopilot like they had done in hundreds of training sessions over the last few months.

 

They reached the top of the attic staircase, still without having seen a single guard and Face motioned where he needed the others to be. Taking point, he started down the dusty steps, gun ready and eyes wide, the sounds of movement and voices clearly reaching them from the floor below. This was where it got messy.

 

They moved like silent, deadly ghosts. Face taking out every guard they came to, a quick knife across the throat and they died silently, their bodies dragged out of the corridor and hidden. Face studiously ignored the looks that Murdock kept throwing at him, shocked he knew by the killing. Hannibal was always the one who decided if they killed or not; it wasn’t a predetermined certainty. If the boss thought they could get away without unnecessary death, then they would. But tonight Face had made that decision himself, and even though he knew it may just come back to haunt him on some dark night in the future, he was happy he’d made the right decision for now – these bastards had upped the stakes themselves by taking the boss. This is what they got in return.

 

By the time they reached the top of the steps to the cellar, having combed through the rest of the house and finding no trace of the boss, Face’s expression was almost as dark as the night sky. They moved into position again, Murdock trying to take point, trying to save Face from what might just be at the bottom of those stairs, but Face just waved him back. They crept down, night vision goggles showing them in shades of grey and green the empty plate and cup on the floor, the open shackles hanging from the wall. Face swore and lifted a shackle up to examine it, finger tips coming away coated in fresh blood and he looked up at the others, “Still wet,” he told them, “He’s not been gone long, must still be somewhere around here.”

 

Face turned and headed for the steps again when the sound of an engine firing up outside caught his attention. He ran to the empty window frame, high in the wall above his head and jumped, finger tips digging into the crumbling edges of stone, feet scrambling for purchase to help him up, “Shit!” he exclaimed, seeing the lorry, tail lights flicking on, starting to edge away from the house. He knew he had no chance on earth of being able to get up the steps and out of the building before the lorry disappeared, plus he had no idea how many guards were still upstairs, chances are he would be sprinting straight into a bullet, so he hung on grimly with his left hand as his right reached to swing his M4 off his back, struggling to hold himself up at the window and set up a shot at the same time.

 

The stone under his left hand crumbled, and he slipped, scraping the skin from his fingers as he desperately scrabbled, trying to hold on. At the last possible second, just as his cramped hand slid off completely, he felt something underneath his feet, broad but soft, moving slightly as it took his weight and he pushed back, standing on that unsteady platform, finally yanking the M4 around and bringing the scope up to his eye.

 

He forced himself to be calm, to breathe in through his nose, out through his mouth, just as Hannibal had taught him all those years ago. He had one chance at this shot, just one and he couldn’t blow it. Flicking the gun into single shot mode he found what he was looking for in his scope, held that steadying breath, then exhaled slowly as he depressed the trigger, one, two, three times, the gun barking out in response.

 

They were good shots; he was as certain of that as he could be in the circumstances and he watched morosely as the lorry lumbered off down the track away from the house.

 

He glanced down and found himself balanced on BA’s back, the big guy’s face showing the strain of holding up his XO’s weight. Face instantly jumped down, patting BA’s arm as he straightened up with a muttered, “Thanks,” and turned back to the steps.

 

“What did you see?” Murdock hissed, flattening himself against the wall at Face’s side as they ascended.

 

“Nothing much, just that lorry leaving.”

 

“The boss on it?”

 

Face sighed, “Dunno for sure, but he’s not here, so...”

 

BA joined them, “So, what’s the plan LT?”

 

Face’s expression was grim as they reached the door to the hallway, “We follow them.”

 

There was a beat of silence, “On foot?”

 

“Still no reindeer, Bosco.”

 

“Faceman,” BA was pissed again, “They in a truck. No way we gonna catch them up, fool!”

 

Face looked left and right along the dark hallway then led them out, keeping to the shadows, his feet silent on the floor.

 

“You’re right,” he hissed as they regrouped at the front door, “Not until they stop anyway.”

 

“And why would they stop?!” BA’s anger with Face’s obtuse answers was growing with every second.

 

“If they run out of gas,” Face muttered slipping outside and scanning the immediate area thoroughly.

 

“They not fool enough to run outta gas!” BA hissed in frustration.

 

Face crouched behind an old broken down wagon and looked back at BA grinning, his teeth strikingly white against the black grease on his skin, “They will now I’ve put a few holes in their gas tank,” he whispered. 

 

Murdock giggled while BA just stared at him.

 

“Come on,” Face muttered as he shouldered his gun, “They’ve all bugged out here, we need to move.”

 

_______________

 

All three of Face’s shots must have been true, as within ninety minutes they had caught up with the abandoned lorry. BA stood watch while Face and Murdock combed through the cab and the rear, finding nothing that told them who they were dealing with, where they were headed or even if Hannibal had been inside or not.

 

Once they had finished with the lorry, they scoured the surrounding area, each looking for some sign that would indicate where their quarry had headed out on foot.

 

“Face!” Murdock’s voice rang out in the night and Face hurried over to join him as he crouched staring at the vegetation at the side of the road. It was trampled, a swathe about two meters wide running directly off the road and into the forest.

 

Face followed it with his eyes as far as his NV scope would allow, then he glanced back at Murdock. “Yeah, it’s them, must be about twenty of them to make this much mess.”

 

BA appeared at their sides, “You sure it’s them?”

 

Face just stared at him, “I just said so didn’t I? Can’t you smell how fresh it is?”

 

Murdock inhaled deeply and could detect the faint aroma of crushed grass stems, “Why do you think they’re not sticking to the road, Face?” he asked, unconcerned as to whether Face would snap or not.

 

“Dunno,” Face murmured, carefully dusting through the footprints at the edge of the road with his fingers, “Maybe they were worried about being spotted, not that this is a major freeway or anything. Maybe they’re just taking the most direct route to where they are going, following a GPS signal or something. Maybe they think it will be easier to hide from us in the trees.”

 

A cold smile settled on his lips and Murdock shuddered. If that’s what they thought then they were very, very wrong.

 

Suddenly Face’s hand reached out and snatched at something on the ground, Murdock and BA leaning over to see what he’d found. Face was silent, turning the object over and over in his fingers before finally holding it up for the others to see and Murdock sucked in a breath: a bracelet made from knotted green paracord, the first indication they had had that they were on the right trail.

 

Face’s expression was grim as he straightened up and slipped the bracelet on over his own wrist, “He’s still alive and he knows we are coming, guys. Let’s go get him.”

 

Murdock and BA straightened again, adjusting their packs as Face took a reading from his GPS, “Plan?” BA asked curtly.

 

Flicking him a quick glance, Face checked his ammo and tightened the knife holster around his thigh. “SBD, big guy, silent but deadly. We track them, catch them up, take ‘em out one by one.” He looked into his teammate’s faces, “No one hears us, no one sees us, no one is left alive. You got that?” They both nodded, not surprised; it had been obvious the way this mission was going the second Face had slit that first guy’s throat. “Okay,” Face was calm and steady; totally business-like, “I’ll take point. BA go left, Murdock, right and stay within sight. 

 

They set off, fanning out in a triangle formation, Murdock and BA to Face’s left and right, Face following the trail of crushed vegetation. Not a sound came from any of the men. From time to time, Face paused and turned to check they were still there, but they moved like ghosts, silent but deadly; just as Face had ordered.

 

They had pace though, Face was moving them on all the time, pushing forward, knowing now that Hannibal was just in front of them, almost in reach, waiting for them to come and get him. Yes they needed to be silent, but they also needed to be fucking fast.

 

An hour later, Face suddenly froze. Murdock and BA, both of whom had been travelling with one eye on their XO also stopped. Face didn’t move and the forest lay silent all around them. BA tried his hardest to keep perfectly still but it was hard, he had stopped in an uncomfortable position, his front leg was already cramping up, he wondered what the hell Face was playing at.

 

Slowly, slowly, Face moved, just his arm, keeping it below the level of his shoulder but out to the side where he knew the others could see it. Two fingers pointing forwards and right, then ten, three fingers pointing forwards and left, then ten and three. BA frowned, two guys ten metres to the right, three guys thirteen metres to the left? No way. The forest was completely silent; there was no way that Face could know that.

 

Then there was a noise, just ahead of him an almost imperceptible creak of a branch and BA stopped breathing. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Face drew his knife out of its holster, holding it in his left hand while his Berretta nestled in his right. BA followed suit, drawing his weapon so slowly so as not to make a sound. He caught Face’s eye and the almost imperceptible shake was there, _Not yet. Wait._ He waited.

 

Slowly, three shapes loomed up and out of the bushes in front of them. They must have thought they’d heard something coming, had ducked down to see what came out of the bushes towards them but given up after all this time of seeing and hearing nothing. Almost at the same time, two more shapes appeared from near Murdock’s position and BA’s heart started hammering even harder. He watched, hardly daring to breathe as the two sets of men turned and walked out of the bushes and into the path of cleared vegetation, not three meters from where Face was crouched next to a gorse bush. They were speaking in Russian and BA could not understand a word they were saying. Not until he heard one word,   _Американец_ , American. They were hunting for them.

 

He glanced at Face and saw that he had pushed himself as close to the gorse bush as he could without making any noise at all, BA knew he would have his gun and his knife ready, as would Murdock, but they needed to be still. They needed to wait and see if they could get out of this undetected, even if the three of them could take these five guards out, a fact BA felt fairly confident about, the noise would alert the others, make getting Hannibal back much less of a possibility.

 

The Russians were sloppy though. They were obviously falsely confident that they were alone and stood, still only three meters from Face, lighting cigarettes and laughing amongst themselves. BA watched his XO uneasily. He knew Face had been setting a fast pace for a reason. Knew that if Hannibal was loaded into some other kind of transport before they had the chance to catch him up then they would probably never see him again. BA was starting to worry that the kid was going to do something crazy here, decide to take all five of them on, himself, just to make sure that they had chance to get going after the boss again. BA watched him carefully, knowing that if Face moved he would have no other choice but to follow.

 

Time ticked on. BA’s entire left leg was numb now, he hoped to hell he wouldn’t have to make any sudden movements as he didn’t think he’d be able to even stand. Without moving his head, he switched his eyes from Face, and tried to spot Murdock in the undergrowth over to his left, but could see nothing.

 

Suddenly, movement. BA’s flicked back to the Russians who were edging closer and closer to Face, still talking loudly amongst themselves. Then everybody froze again. BA gripped the handle of his handgun tightly and silently slid the safety off. One of the Russians pointed, but not at Face’s hiding place, back up behind them, they way they had come almost half an hour ago now. BA silently turned his head, wondering if they were being flanked, if someone was coming up behind them, had been following them all this time. Then he heard it, the rustling of leaves and then a soft thud, well behind them in the forest. The Russians readied their guns and took off in a spirit towards the noise, each one of them running so close to Face that they could have stroked him as they passed... BA continued to hold his breath.    

 

Within thirty seconds the sounds of their mad dash through the trees had faded and BA looked over to see Murdock slip silently from the forest across from him and make his way over to where Face still crouched. BA joined them, cursing the pins and needles in his leg.

 

“You throw those stones, HM?” Face whispered, even the breath in between his words sounding far too loud in the heavy stillness of the trees.

 

A wide grin split Murdock’s face, “Sure did. They were getting face too close to you for my liking muchacho.”

 

Face nodded, eyes still fixed on the trees behind them, “Thanks, buddy,” he patted Murdock’s arm, “But they are still out there, we should double back and finish them.”

 

There was a beat of silence, two beats, and Face missed the glance that flashed between Murdock and BA before Murdock spoke again, his voice carefully controlled. “They’ve gone, Face. We need to push on after the boss.”

 

Face looked up at him and Murdock could see the indecision etched all over his features, “But what if they realise we’ve slipped past them? They come up behind us and we are in the shit boys.”

 

“You don’t need to kill everyone, Face,” BA grumbled, “Don’t you ever listen to the boss?”

 

Instantly furious, Face flashed around to stare at BA and Murdock rolled his eyes at the big guy, his hands on Face’s biceps, trying to smooth things over, “Leave it, Face,” he whispered, “Those guys are gone. Let’s get Hannibal back.”

 

For a moment, the tension in the air was almost choking, but then Face seemed to sag, just for a moment before turning around, leaving the Russians behind him and focussing on the boss instead. “Okay,” Murdock could hear the stress in his voice, “We move on. But,” cold blue eyes were back on BA, “any hostiles we see ahead, even if they are out walking their Grandma’s fucking dog, we take them out. We’ve lost far too much time here as it is to spend forever creeping around them.” Silence. “Understood?”

 

“Sure thing, buddy,” Murdock’s voice was deliberately light but BA just scowled at him and turned back to his position.

 

“Let’s go,” he growled, “we need to get the boss back.”

 

The pace was tighter this time. Face was painfully aware how much time they had wasted as they waited for the scouting party to pass them, and he had to keep forcing away images of Hannibal being loaded into the back of another lorry, a car, a chopper, a fucking cargo plane... had to keep forcing himself to be aware of everything around him, knew he would spot any hostiles before the other two but needed to make sure he spotted them before the hostiles spotted him.

 

Maybe another hour passed and the sky was starting to almost imperceptibly lighten far away in the east when Face froze again. He motioned forward this time. One hostile, twenty metres. Murdock squinted into the darkness but could see absolutely nothing, could hear nothing, hell, he opened his mouth slightly, couldn’t even taste the fucker. But if Face said he was there, then he was damn well there, how his buddy did that trick Murdock would never know, but he was always right.

 

He watched as Face signalled them to be still and started his own silent advance. Glancing further to the right, Murdock watched BA settle down behind a bush, gun drawn in readiness, and then forwards again, where Face had now melted straight into the trees.

 

Straining his ears Murdock listened. He knew what Face was going to do, wondered if he would hear a strangled cry, a thump, an aborted call for help but there was nothing, nothing until the muted bird call that signalled that he should proceed once more.

 

Within a minute, Face loomed into sight once more, calmly wiping his knife clean on the grass and a shudder ran down Murdock’s spine. He hadn’t really known Face that long. Six months they had been together, and it hadn’t started well, Murdock knew that at first, Face hadn’t really liked him much at all. In retrospect, that business with the blow torch probably hadn’t been so wise, but Face _had_ smelt of gas, and Murdock was only checking his theory out. Those damn pink pills he’d been on at the time probably hadn’t helped either; they’d made it so hard to concentrate on anything. How he’d not killed them all in that chopper he never really understood.

 

So, yeah, Face obviously hadn’t liked him much to start with, but now, Murdock smiled to himself, he and Face were buddies. Proper buddies, like Murdock hadn’t ever really had before. Face just seemed to _get_ him, didn’t just look at him like he was a Martian or something, well, okay he had those first few weeks, but not anymore. And Murdock _got_ Face. He knew he annoyed the shit out of BA, but that was only because BA couldn’t see through all the crap that Face was hiding behind. Murdock on the other hand, had always been good at seeing stuff that wasn’t there, and so he had understood Face from day one. Knew he was sharp as a dagger and insecure as all hell. Knew he was in love with the boss and the boss obviously loved him back. Knew he was just that little bit off centre, too much of an adrenalin junkie to be entirely normal, knew he loved the rush of the job. But he also knew, and this was the thing here, he knew damn well that Face hated the killing.

 

Murdock frowned as Face sheathed his knife. So, if Face hated the killing so much, just who was this guy, calmly steeping over about the tenth corpse he’d made just tonight? He shook his head. He wasn’t sure about the answer to that question, but he sure as hell knew that he hoped this new guy wouldn’t hang around too long.

 

They pushed on, the trees around them thinning, forcing them to slow down, be more cautious. It wasn’t long before Face motioned them over to him, his eyes fixed on something up ahead of them. Murdock and BA arrived at Face’s side at the same time. “We are right behind them,” his voice was more like a breath, “We need to fan out, pick them off one by one. It won’t be dark for long, we need to move fast. Any questions?”

 

BA and Murdock shook their heads, but Murdock knew that BA’s dark expression was probably very similar to his own.

 

There were seventeen guards and it took little over half an hour to whittle that number down to eight. They targeted the guys on the perimeter, sneaking in, silently dropping their mark and retreating before they were seen. Murdock tried not to think too much about what he was doing, he knew that he would talk to the boss about this later and Hannibal would convince him that he had done the right thing, but just for now he would have to suffer the unease he felt about taking a life. He hated the killing; just like Face.

 

Face. Murdock looked up as Face slowly appeared from the branches of a tree. Soundlessly lowering himself down by his arms, right behind his latest target. Murdock watched as his best friend suddenly lifted his legs and, almost too fast to see, had them wrapped around his target’s throat as he dropped them both to the ground. He knew that Face had broken the guy’s neck as they fell, it wasn’t really that that had bothered him, it was the grim, satisfied expression that Face was wearing that renewed those chills.

 

Their luck had to run out at some point, however. As much as the Russians were spread out through the trees making picking them off almost too easy, there was always going to come to the point when they noticed their force had been cut in half. There was nothing wrong with the way that Face had taken that last guy out, it was just bad luck that one of the others happened to turn around at the point that Face had dropped from the trees.

 

Murdock hadn’t even seen the other guy, fortunately BA did, but as he was just not quick enough to stop the warning shout before he dropped the guy. Everything stopped; then it started up at top speed as machine gun fire raked around them, shouting in Russian from every direction, people running, utter pandemonium.

 

Face swore under his breath and held his position, trying to work out what the fuck was going on and still trying to get some kind of a visual on the boss. He listened intently to the shouting as he heard Murdock and BA starting to return fire. His Russian wasn’t perfect, but it was damn good, and then he heard it, exactly the information he had been waiting for, revealed by people who were too arrogant to think that maybe someone else spoke their language.

 

“Найдите их. Убейте их. Я съеду с целью.” ‘ _Find them. Kill them. I will move out with the target.’_

 

Face was after that voice in a second. There was no way on earth he was going to let Hannibal get away from him here, not after he had done so much, so much that he knew would come back to haunt him in the future, just to get to this point. He had no time to get to the others, tell them what he was doing; he just hoped they would work it out for themselves. Hannibal would. He and Hannibal had this way of just knowing all the time what the other was going to do. Face had never met another person in his entire life that knew him like Hannibal did. To even contemplate a life without that... No. That was never going to happen.

 

He scrambled through the undergrowth, the need to be quiet warring with the need to be fast, and then up ahead in the early morning gloom, he saw them. It was definitely Hannibal, and Face was relieved beyond all words to see that the boss was up on his feet, moving easily, didn’t look damaged at all. His hands were shackled though, they appeared to be attached together to a collar around his neck, and as Face steadily closed the distance between them he burned with the desire to destroy anyone who would ever dare try to humiliate John Smith in such a way.

 

The trees were thinning all the while, and as Hannibal’s captor, a thin, balding man, almost as tall as Hannibal himself, dragged his prisoner out into the open Face knew his chance was coming. He doubled his pace, risking being heard just so he could get close enough for a shot. One shot was all he needed, it would be quicker with his hand gun and for that he needed to be closer. One bullet in the back of the head, and Hannibal would be free.

 

Face skirted slightly to the left. Seeing that Baldy was holding Hannibal on his right, gun in his left hand jammed up under the boss’ chin, Face knew that it would be easier to stay out of sight to the left. This was it, his big chance. If he played the game just right from here on in, then he would have Hannibal back within minutes. If he screwed up, however, and that guy pulled the trigger on his damn gun... Well, Face wasn’t going to think about that just now. 

 

He was almost close enough, almost, almost and then Baldy turned, swinging Hannibal around with him, his own damn gun still rammed into the boss’ neck, but Face kept going. His heart was hammering up in his chest but he kept walking, gun held up in both hands, sure and steady, knowing that this Baldy guy didn’t really want to shoot Hannibal, had kidnapped him for a reason, was only going to use his gun as a last resort. Knowing that Face continuing to walk in on him would be creeping him out, taking all his control out of the situation. With a bit of luck, he would even take his gun off the boss and point it Face’s way, he knew if that happened then Hannibal would have the little shit on his back before he could do anything and then Face would shoot his fucking brains out.

 

“Stop!” the voice was heavily accented but Face kept on prowling, closer and closer, refusing to look at Hannibal knowing he needed every single ounce of concentration to pull this off. “Stop, damn you!” Baldy yelled again; panic edging his tone, “You are here to save your leader? I will shoot if you step even one pace closer!”

 

“No, you won’t,” Face wasn’t shouting, didn’t need to and knew he sounded more dangerous when he didn’t, “Your boss wants him alive and anyway, you know that if you kill him, then I’ll kill you.” That wasn’t a risk that Face was prepared to take, but there was no way Baldy was going to know that. “The US government doesn’t want the colonel there in anyone’s hands but ours, he knows far too much. He stays with us, dead or alive, that’s the message I got.”

 

Face’s bluff seemed to work as Baldy backed up a step, dragging Hannibal across the rough stony ground, eyeing Face unsteadily, “That might be the case,” he answered unsteadily, “But my employer is not a man to be disappointed, I will die rather than return empty handed!”

 

Face stopped, narrowing his eyes as he clocked the change of expression on Baldy’s face. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure that the guy wouldn’t follow through on his threat after all, the desperation on his face was clear to see, and desperation was a very dangerous emotion. He checked his distance, glanced at Baldy’s gun, sticking so hard into Hannibal’s neck it was drawing blood and wondered if he could get this shot off, nail the bastard between the eyes before he could pull the trigger... Realised with a sinking heart, that no, he couldn’t.

 

He kept his expression carefully empty though  and kept his gun up as he tried to come up with another bluff, “You know we’ve killed all your men?” his voice was so cold it almost made him shudder, “Can’t see your boss being too pleased about that, even if you do manage to hang onto the colonel there. Three US soldiers, wiping out your entire force...”

 

Baldy just laughed, it was a thin, nervous sound but one that Face knew he meant, “Hired help, that’s all. Untrained thugs every one of them, and we still managed to steal your leader right out from underneath your noses last night!”

 

Face bristled at the insult and followed Baldy as he took another step backwards, up the shallow embankment of the railway tracks behind him.

 

“Listen, bud,” Face growled, getting sick of this verbal sparring, “There’s only one way you are walking away from tonight and that’s by letting go of the colonel and dropping that gun. Otherwise whether we lose that US property or not, the crows will be picking over your dead body by sun up. So wise up and drop your weapon before I drop you.”

 

Bull’s-eye. Face could see that his threat had hit home. Bastard didn’t need to know that Face had no intention of letting him walk anywhere tonight, whether Hannibal was freed or not, either way, he was a dead man. But then, in the distance, the whistle of a train sounded and somehow Face just knew that that changed everything.

 

In a couple of seconds Baldy had hauled Hannibal up onto the tracks and was standing staring down at Face with a wild expression on his features. “Okay soldier,” he breathed through a shaky smile, “You either drop your weapon here or I turn the colonel into chopped meat. I’m sure _your_ leaders wouldn’t want that. They’d at least like a body to prove you have done your job properly.”    

 

For a split second Face knew that the terror was clear in his expression before he managed to wipe it clean, but it was too late, he knew Baldy had seen it, knew that he had the upper hand now. Baldy smiled, his thin lips stretching over his grey face. “Put the gun down, soldier,” he ordered, “and I might just let _you_ live.”

 

Before Face had chance to answer, Hannibal’s voice broke the silence. “Is this it then Lieutenant?”

 

Face startled, his eyes flicking to the boss as the acidic tone of his words bit into him.

 

“This the sum of your grand escape plans for me?”

 

Both Face and Baldy were stunned into silence. Face could barely take in Hannibal’s pale but thankfully unmarred features as his cold words slammed home in his brain. “Fuck, Lieutenant, my sister’s gerbil could plan something better than this! You always were a fucking waste of space!”

 

Nobody moved, no one even seemed to breathe. Face was aware of movement behind him, but he didn’t turn and by the way his head was still attached to his shoulders, guessed it must be Murdock and BA. Hannibal’s words drove a spike through his heart, _that’s_ what the boss thought of him? A waste of space... Useless. A failure. He felt the ice running through his veins, making its way up and into his arms, spreading down reaching for his fingers. It was going to make him drop the gun...

 

Then he looked up into the boss’ eyes for the first time and it was like a burst of fire shot between them, instantly vaporising the ice, banishing it to another dimension. Of course. The boss was playing. Of course he was. Face wasn’t quite sure how this game was supposed to work out, but he could do this, he and the boss had run many, many scams together over the years. Of course the boss didn’t think he was useless. They were a team, the best, and this game wasn’t lost yet.

 

He fixed a very pissed off expression onto his face, “With all due respect, _sir_ ,” he muttered, “If you hadn’t been so monumentally stupid as to get yourself caught last night then we wouldn’t be in this fucking position now!”

 

He heard a muted gasp behind him which he knew came from BA. Of course the big guy would have no idea about what was going on just now, but that was fine, that would play into Face’s hands as long as he kept his reactions for show and didn’t try to get involved.

 

“You insubordinate wretch!” Hannibal yelled, inching forward and slightly away from that gun barrel and suddenly Face understood the game. Confuse the living hell out of Baldy, give him a show to watch, make sure he is so distracted he doesn’t notice that the gun is no longer in Hannibal’s neck and then Face can shoot his head off. The shot was already lined up, Face didn’t even have to re-aim, knew if he pulled that trigger the bastard was dead. Just needed to boss to move a little bit more...

 

“Somebody sold me out!” Hannibal yelled, “It was you wasn’t it? Sneaky little bastard, think you’d move quicker up the ladder without me around? This is fifteen years ago, all over again!”

 

Baldy frowned, his eyes flicking between Face and Hannibal in confusion. “Guess again, Grandepa!” Face spat, “It wasn’t me! But if I ever get the chance to meet the guy who did sell you out, I’d love to shake his hand!”

 

Everything happened in a split second. Hannibal lunged forward, looking for all the world as if he was going to rip Face’s throat out, Baldy, utterly confused by the dialogue between the two men let him slip away from the gun. Face’s finger squeezed on the trigger just as he was wiped out from behind, BA’s solid bulk crashing into him, knocking his aim, firing the bullet close enough to Baldy’s head that he felt it whistle past his ear, waking him up to the fact that he was being played. Murdock hauled BA away from Face just as the corporal raised his fist to lay his XO out and yelled out in warning as a huge goods train suddenly appeared from between the trees, steaming down the tracks towards them, whistling frantically as the driver spotted the commotion on the tracks.

 

In two steps Baldy was back where he had been, right in the middle of the tracks, gun jammed into Hannibal’s neck, wild eyes flicking between the three American soldiers in front of him and the rapidly approaching train.

 

“Move back!” he yelled, utter panic in his voice.

 

Face was frozen. On his knees in the mud unable to process what had just happened, how close he’d been to pulling this whole thing off, and now...

 

“Move back!!!” Baldy screamed again, the train not fifty metres away now, its whistle sounding almost continuously, “If you don’t move I’ll stand right here! Let this train crush him!”

 

Face knew the guy was speaking directly to him, had already felt Murdock and BA back off, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even think straight. All he could do was stare into Hannibal’s blue eyes as they fixed him across the five metres that separated them. The boss looked scared; he’d obviously run out of ideas. Face couldn’t get his own damn brain to work either, all he wanted to do was tackle that bastard, take him down with his bare hands, but he was frozen in the mud, knowing that as soon as he took one step towards Hannibal, the boss would end up with a bullet through his neck.

 

The train was thirty metres away.

 

“Face,” there was a voice in his ear, hands on his shoulders then his elbows, standing him up, pulling him backwards, “Come on buddy, we can still do this, don't give up, let’s just do what the man says.”

 

Face let himself be dragged back, aware, vaguely that this might be the only thing that saved Hannibal’s life. His eyes didn’t leave the boss’ face the whole time though. Not when Murdock yelled, “Okay you fucker, we’ve moved back, now you move!” Not when Baldy glanced up at the rapidly approaching train one last time. Not when he grabbed Hannibal tightly by the collar around his neck and leapt backwards, dragging them both off the tracks as the train moved right into their sphere, and because he was staring the whole time, he saw Hannibal’s mouth move, saw the whispered, “I love you,” as the goods train thundered in separating them completely.

 

Hannibal disappearing from sight shocked Face back into action, he dived forward, Murdock’s reaching fingers just brushing the back of his pack as he threw himself, face down, on the ground at the edge of the track, sharp stones digging into his cheek as he looked under the train, eyes desperately searching for some sign of the boss.

 

Between the flashing wheels, he saw a movement to his left and his gut clenched as he spotted a now unconscious Hannibal being hauled into the back of an old Red Army jeep partially concealed in bushes on the far side of the tracks. As he stared, horror struck, the engine roared into life and, spitting mud everywhere, the jeep spun out of its hiding place and turned onto a mud track heading away from them. Face scrambled for his gun, hoping against hope to be able to take out a tyre or even the petrol tank again from his position on the ground.

 

In seconds he was ready, gun held steady in his arms, eye at the scope, heart pounding in his chest and he pulled the trigger. He heard the sharp pop of the gun firing, followed milliseconds later by a high pitched metallic ping and then a searing blinding heat erupted across his temple and then everything went black.

 

________________

 

 

Face opened his eyes to a blinding headache and the sight of dappled sunshine flitting through the trees above him. He lay still for a moment, too wise of the world he lived in to move without first working out where he was, who was with him, and then it all came back. With the force of that damn stupid freight train, the events of the early morning arrived back into his brain and Face sat up, nausea threatening him and his hand on his head, trying to hold back the waves of agony.

 

Instantly Murdock was beside him, gripping his arm as he swayed, one hand on his cheek helping to steady his head. “Hey, take it easy, buddy, you’re okay, just lie back down. You’re okay.”

 

Murdock’s voice washed over him like a warm bath and he let himself be lowered back down, feeling the relative softness of a pack beneath his head, the heat of a space blanket as it was pulled back up to his chin and he forced his blurry eyes to focus on the Captain’s concerned ones. “What the fuck?” he mumbled, fingers poking at the dressing on his head, embarrassed that his mouth struggled to form the words.

 

“The bullet ricocheted off one of the train’s wheels,” Murdock told him gently, “It only just nicked you though, another inch over and it would have ventilated your brain, bud.”

 

Face sighed. He’d known that was a chance when he’d lined his shot up, the wheels were just moving too fast to gage when he was clear to pull the trigger. But it was a risk worth taking in his eyes. “Hannibal?” he murmured. Of course he knew, but he just had to ask.

 

Murdock stroked cold fingers down his cheek, “I’m sorry Face, by the time the train had gone, they were well out of sight. BA has gone after them, he’s gonna try to see where the road goes and double back in a bit to let us know.”

 

“On foot?”

 

Murdock chuckled, “Still no flying reindeer.”

 

Well, that was almost useless then. Face struggled to sit up, letting Murdock help him lean against the tree trunk, despair battering him like a spring tide. BA... memories of that moment when the shit hit the fan crowded through his aching head and he frowned as he accepted the water and painkillers Murdock pushed his way.

 

“He feels really bad...” Murdock’s voice was an almost whisper, “He didn’t know you were bluffing.”

 

“I know,” the water helped his throat, but hit his empty stomach painfully, “But, fuck, HM; we almost had him back...”

 

Murdock didn’t answer, just held out a peanut butter Hooah! bar which Face listlessly took off him and proceeded to unwrap as the Captain sat down next to him, his silent presence a comfort as Face tried to figure out what the fuck they should do next.

 

__________________

 

An hour later BA was back and Face had drifted into sleep once more, waking with a start as he heard voices in the trees to his left.

 

“Told, ya, fool there aint no road! I don’t know where that guy went, but he musta off roaded the whole way. Could be anywhere!”

 

“But, there musta been tracks, BA, or something! I dunno, but Face is gonna hit the roof if you’ve nothing to tell him!”

 

“Hey guys,” Face appeared from around a tree and blinked at them, trying to clear the fog from his brain.

 

Instantly BA stepped up, “Hey, man,” the awkwardness in his eyes was obvious, “I’m sorry. I screwed up. I shoulda known what you were up to.”

 

Face knew he should be the big man here, accept the apology and move on but he just couldn’t. A wave of irritation swelled up inside him, so huge it could have swallowed him whole and he glared coldly at BA, “Yeah, but you didn’t did you? Too busy thinking I’m the fucking bad guy here to even stop and consider whether you’re screwing up the plan.”

 

BA narrowed his eyes, “Plan? That weren’t no plan Face. That was just some random stuff that happened that you was trying to make the best of.”

 

Hands balled into fists, Face stepped forward. “You aren’t here for your fucking opinions, Baracus, you are here to do what you are told by those who outrank you,” Face knew he was being an ass, knew that Hannibal would be furious if he could hear him talking to BA like this, but his head ached, his limbs felt like jelly and he honestly wondered if someone had ripped his heart out ‘cause there was a fucking huge Hannibal shaped hole in his chest right now, so he found it hard to give a shit. “So keep your mouth shut, do as you are told for once, or I might just knock you flat on your butt.”

 

BA’s mouth was a thin, tight line as he stepped in to meet Face, “Oh, you think so do you? You think you can take me out? I’d like to see you try _whore_. You mention butt? Yours is the only reason the boss keeps you around!”

 

Face’s fist was flying before the words were completely out of BA’s mouth, but it never connected, knocked out of its flight path by a strong wiry arm and suddenly Murdock was right in his face, jamming himself in between Face and BA, his eyes flashing in fury.

 

“Cut this crap out!” he spat, one hand on each chest, “You think any of this is helping the boss?” his wild eyes flicked from Face’s cold blue ones to BA’s angry brown ones, “Well?” he prompted, “Do you?”

 

Face whirled away, frustration burning within him. He _knew_ that fighting with BA wasn’t helping the boss, but that was just it, he couldn’t think of anything that _would_ help and it was just eating him up. If he felt like this back on the base he would go for a run or go to the gym and hit something, or if it was really bad he’d get a little drunk and get into a fight... or, and this was his favourite way of dealing with stress, he’d surprise the boss somewhere and pound him through the nearest bed.

 

Unfortunately, none of those were an option at the minute and Face just clenched his fists, stalking angrily through the trees and coming face to face with one of the Russian hostiles, his face as white as the ropes that bound him to the tree.

 

Face stared, the facts slowly coming together in his mind before he hissed, “Murdock!” through the trees, ever aware of the fact the there still might be more Russians hiding out in the woods.

 

Murdock was instantly at his side, he took one look at the terrified face of their captive, one look at Face’s furious expression and braced himself for a fight, there was no way he was letting Face have his way on this one. “Yeah, bud?”

 

“What the fuck is this?” Face hissed gesturing furiously at the bound captive, “I thought I’d said no survivors?!”

 

“He surrendered,” Murdock replied calmly, “I’m not gonna kill a man who surrenders, Face,” he saw the quick look the lieutenant flashed his way, “And neither are you.”

 

For a second neither of them spoke. Murdock was aware of BA in the trees just behind him, thankfully keeping his distance for now, but then Face smiled. It was the kind of smile that sent shivers up and down Murdock’s spine and Face glanced at the captive Russian before turning back to Murdock, his smile even wider. “No, you’re right,” he said, “we can’t kill someone who has surrendered. Especially if they have information on where we can find the boss.”

 

That chill was still in Murdock’s spine, but BA was the one who answered, “He don't speak no English, Face. Don't you think we already tried?”

 

Face turned right around to fix BA with a cold stare, when would that guy ever learn? But he just shook his head and looked back at the hostage, huge, shit eating grin spread across his features. “Morning, friend,” he spoke in perfectly accented Russian, “How are you today?”

 

Three sets of amazed eyes fixed on him in the gloom of the forest before the man hesitantly replied in his native tongue, “I’ve probably been better.”

 

Face laughed and eyed the captive up. He was very young, maybe around eighteen or nineteen, and Face felt a flash of sympathy for him, he’d been seventeen when he’d joined up, desperate to get out of the long succession of care homes he’d been shoved into, each one throwing him out when his behaviour became too much for them. He’d just been a kid; same as this one here, and the forces was no place for a kid. But then he’d remembered Hannibal, the reason he’d survived those early years relatively intact, and all his sympathy vanished.

 

“What’s your name?” he barked, noticing how the kid flinched.

 

“Leon,” came the stuttered replied.

 

“So, Leon,” he fixed him with a cold stare, “how about you tell me where they have taken my friend?”

 

Leon shook his head, “I can’t! I mean-” he was cut off sharp by the vicious back hand that Face threw his way and came back up with blood trailing from his mouth.

 

Face smiled at him, “Let’s try again,” he said. “Where is my friend?”

 

“I don’t know!” Leon was starting to sound panicked, “I don’t even know who that tall man is, or who you friend is or-” this time it was a low drive to the stomach, leaving Leon gasping for breath and leaning heavily on his bindings.

 

“I really don't have the time for this shit,” Face told him, cold smile firmly in place, “so let me ask you one more time. Where the fuck is my friend?”

 

Leon was almost sobbing, “Please,” he whispered, “I don’t know, they came to my village, told my parents they would burn down our farm-”

 

Face struck him again, a punch to the side of this face this time, he didn’t want to hear all this about the kid’s problems, didn’t want to think of this guy as a person, an individual. All he was to Face was a source of information, and that’s the way he wanted to keep it. “Enough!” he barked, “Save the sob story for someone who cares and tell me who that guy is and what he wants with my friend!”

 

“I don’t know!” Leon _was_ sobbing now, a huge bruise already rising on his cheek bone, “I told you all I know! They took me and my brothers, some other young men from our village! Said they needed soldiers! But I’m not a soldier!” Leon was yelling through his tears now, “None of them were either! Farmers! That’s all, and now they are all dead!”

 

There was no way that Face wanted to hear any of this. Those men in the forest, simple farmers? No. He didn’t want to hear that... “You lie!” he yelled in response, landing another blow to Leon’s stomach, “Those men were trained killers, they knew their way around a Kalashnikov alright!”

 

“Some of them, yes,” Leon gasped, “There were already some soldiers here, but the rest were peasants. We knew nothing!”

 

In his head Face saw the expressions of every man he had killed in the last twelve hours. If he thought really hard about it, he could probably pin down right now who had been a trained soldier and who had been a kidnapped civilian. His stomach churned unpleasantly. “Enough!” he yelled at Leon, self-reproach nibbling away at his patience and pulled his knife from its holster, “How about you start telling me something I want to hear, or I start drawing some pictures in your flesh!”

 

Murdock moved to his XO’s side a hissed, “Enough, Face, he doesn’t know anything!” the only indication of his frustration as Leon closed his eyes and sobbed, the smell of urine filling the air and a dark, wet stain suddenly appearing down the kid’s left trouser leg.

 

“Oh, fucking, Jesus!” Face cried out and the hand holding the knife lashed out at Leon, Murdock’s arm too slow to stop him. But only the cords that tied Leon to the tree were severed and the kid collapsed in a heap on the ground, sobbing hard. Face reached down and yanked him back up again, holding him up so he could look into his terrified pale eyes, “Get the fuck out of here, Leon,” he whispered, “Can you find your village on your own?” Leon nodded frantically, “Good. Well, go home. Don’t bother looking for your friends or your brothers, they are all dead. You know that right?” A terse nod, “So go home, run as hard as you can ‘cause if I or one of those army guys finds you again, you’re dead too. Understand?” Again Leon nodded.

 

Face turned to Murdock who was still warily watching him, “You got a rations pack?” he asked the captain, remembering to switch back to English first. Murdock nodded. “Good, give it to him, he’s leaving.” Murdock bent down and pulled a rations pack from the backpack at his feet and pushed it into Leon’s trembling hands.

 

Leon took it, thanking Murdock in English before turning back to Face, “You’re not going to kill me?” he asked, his voice noticeably shaking.

 

“Not if you leave now,” Face replied shortly.

 

Leon continued to stare at him, “I should kill you...” he whispered, “Avenge the death of my brothers and friends...”

 

Face let out a long sigh, “You could never kill me,” he replied easily, “And believe me friend, revenge is not as easy as it sounds. Now disappear before I change my mind and kill _you_.”

 

Leon stared at him for a long moment, and Face wondered if the kid really was going to have a go at getting his revenge, but then the moment was gone and with a hastily suppressed sob, Leon turned and ran through the trees.

 

Face watched him until he had disappeared from sight, then he turned to the side and threw up into the bushes, the peanut butter Hooah! bar burning his throat on the way back up

 

_________________

 

“I’m telling you, I still think we should call in an extraction!”

 

Face closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose to try and beat down the reappearance of his headache, letting himself slump against the trunk of the tree he was leaning on. They’d been over this point at least five times in the last hour of pointless, hopeless conversation. “BA,” his voice sounded tired, worn down, “that’s just not gonna happen. You were the one who said we don't leave anyone behind. Well, that would be leaving Hannibal behind.”

 

“It’s not leaving him behind!” BA hissed as he paced up and down in front of Face, “We already done that the other night! This is getting the hell outta here to get some back up and see if someone else can get some intel as to where the hell the boss is! Maybe the guys who have got him have contacted the military, maybe they looking for a ransom or something!”

 

“It’s not happening, Baracus,” the only reason Face was so confident on this fact was that he had taken the sat phone from BA’s pack. “Now, shut the fuck up so I can damn well think!”

 

“Think about what?!” BA fumed, “You don't know shit here, Peck, and you just sitting here letting them take the boss further away!”

 

Face’s patience snapped and he jumped to his feet, “Who was it that screwed our best chance yet then Bosco? If it wasn’t for you, that damn Ruskie would have a hole in his head and the boss would be right here now! You forgotten about that you self righteous son of a bitch?!”

 

BA’s scowl deepened and he took a threatening step in, “Don’t you bad mouth my mamma!”

 

“Face?” Murdock’s voice, calmness itself, cut into the developing tension in front of him and both BA and Face found their eyes drawn down to the man who was sitting cross legged in amongst the piles of packs, a slight frown on his face. He looked up at the standoff above him, seeming to not even notice it. “What happened fifteen years ago?”

 

It was Face’s turn to frown, “What?!”

 

“’ _This is fifteen years ago, all over again._ ’ That’s what Hannibal said. What happened fifteen years ago?”

 

Face blinked at him for a moment, “How the hell would I know, Murdock? I was still in Junior High fifteen years ago!”

 

Murdock wasn’t perturbed by Face’s anger, “But, it must be something important, yeah? For Hannibal to say it? Something he’d want us to know?”

 

Face still stared at him as BA answered, “So why the riddle, fool? The boss wanted us to know something why not just say it?”

 

“Because he didn’t want that bald bastard to know that we knew...” Face supplied, his mind whirring into action.

 

“Exactly!” Murdock grinned, “So c’mon Face, what happened fifteen years ago?”

 

“I don’t know,” Face muttered, rooting around in his pack, “But I know a guy who might...”

 

Face’s fingers were shaking when he dialled the number. He had completely lost track of time zones and time differences, he only hoped his call would be answered. It was, on the third ring.

 

“Yeah?”

 

The relief at hearing that familiar voice with its faint English lilt, almost overwhelmed him, “Bunt, it’s Face.”

 

“Hey! It’s the kid! How you doing? You up in DC? Wanting me to drink you under the table again?”

 

Despite the tension coursing through his body, Face couldn’t help but smile. Bunter had been his XO for three years and had dealt with almost as much shit from him as Hannibal had in that time. Just hearing the guy’s voice made Face feel safe again.

 

“Sorry, Bunt, I’m on an op.”

 

There was a pause, just a beat and then Bunter was back, the concern evident in his voice, “Fuck, what’s wrong? Is it the boss?” The fear in the older man’s tone made Face’s stomach clench tight.

 

“No, he’s fine,” he lied quickly. “Look, I just need to know about something that might have happened fifteen years ago. Bunt, you were with him then, what could it be?” Face turned his back from Murdock and BA’s intense stares and surreptitiously crossed his fingers for luck.

 

“Fifteen years ago...” Bunter repeated, “Can’t you give me more of a clue than that kiddo? Me and the boss been through plenty of crazy shit in the past.”

 

“Maybe something to do with Russians?” Face prompted nervously.

 

“Russians?” the obvious change in tone of Bunter’s voice chilled Face to the marrow, “Oh, fuck, Face, please tell me it’s not that...”

 

____________________

 

Face’s fingers were shaking as he packed the sat phone away in its waterproof casing, taking his time, playing for time despite the way that Murdock was hovering at his elbow.

 

“Well?” the pilot eventually prompted, “What did he say, Face? He know anything?”

 

Face dropped the pack to the ground and rose to his feet, leaning back against a tree trunk and wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his face with one hand. He took a deep breath. “Fifteen years ago, Hannibal’s team was involved in stopping a stream of illegal weapons coming into the US from the USSR. They traced the guns back to one Igor Morozov, a General in the Red Army and Hannibal made sure there was enough evidence to implicate him in the whole damn mess. Seems Gorbachev himself wanted to make an example of the guy so he lost his job, his home, his wealth, his family, and was sent to a prison camp in Siberia.”

 

Murdock blew out through his teeth, “So, let me guess, this Morozov is out of prison now and wanting to hook up with the boss to discuss that little matter of revenge?”

 

Face shook his head, just wishing it was that simple. “Igor Morozov died in prison in 1991, just before the fall of the USSR. In the chaos that followed those days, plenty of high ranking ex-USSR statesmen ended up going rogue, making their own versions of state control in their own areas of the country.”

 

BA nodded, “You meaning the Russian Mafia?”

 

This time Face nodded, and Murdock’s heart started pumping harder as he noticed the paleness of his XO’s skin, “Yeah, big guy. I mean the Mafia. And one of those guys? One Bohdan Morozov, Igor’s baby brother.”   

 

There was along, tense silence before Murdock spoke up again, “You think that’s who’s got the boss, Face, the Russian Mafia?”

 

Face rubbed both his hands through his hair, hoping to scrub everything about this mission right out of his head, “I don’t see another explanation, HM,” he whispered, “I mean, this is big, right? This whole mission of ours was a set up, who else could have engineered something like that?”

 

Murdock looked as pale as Face was, “So, your buddy on the phone, he knows where the boss might be?”  

 

Shaking his head, Face pulled a map out of his pack and spread it on the ground. “Not really,” he murmured, “but he does know where the Morozovs lived back then, it could be a place to start.”

 

“Where?” Murdock asked, leaning in to look at the map.

 

“The end of the fucking world,” Face muttered, tapping the map irritably, “Magadan.”

 

__________________________

 

Murdock wiped more of the grease paint from under Face’s eyes and tutted for probably the fifth time in as many minutes. Face sighed, “Murdock, buddy, you’re starting to sound like a clock. What’s the problem?”

 

Dabbing at the bullet wound on Face’s head a little more forcefully than was strictly necessary, Murdock frowned at him as he answered. “You know what the problem is Face, I don't see why you have to go wandering about the city on your own! It’s not safe!”

 

Face sighed and his eyes wandered over to BA who had managed to get a fire going in the dank and dismal shelter they had made under the arches of a dilapidated railway bridge. It was late afternoon, and they had hitched a ride on the next freight train that had rumbled past after phoning Bunter from the forest. Face hadn’t been too worried about where it was going, had only been interested in getting into a built up area, finding some supplies and moving out after Hannibal, but was quite pleased to find himself in Omsk. Omsk was a reasonably big city, on a major train line as well. Russia was fucking huge so it made life so much easier if they were somewhere with major transport links.

 

“HM, you know we need some gear, and you know it makes sense for me to go on my own. You and BA don't speak the language, you’d stand out. The last thing we need to do is draw attention to ourselves!”

 

“The last thing we need is to be here at all!” BA grouched as he poked at the fledgling fire, “Shoulda called an extraction and got the hell outta here!”

 

Biting his lip, Face swallowed his retort. They’d been over this again and again and again in the last four hours. He obviously wasn’t going to change BA’s mind on that front.

 

Murdock shot a nervous glance between the two of them and decided a swift change of subject was in order, “So, Face, how come you speak the lingo anyway? You been living out here and not telling us?”

 

Face shook his head, “Nah. Too fucking cold for me. There was this nun in one of the orphanages I was in, she taught me.” It was still awkward, discussing this type of thing with anyone other than Hannibal. He knew it was only a matter of time until he started getting the long, pitying stares from Murdock if he talked about being an orphan for too long. He hated the long pitying stares.

 

To his surprise, Murdock just laughed, “What, Sister Helga? Bet she was a barrel full of laughs!”

 

“No!” Face couldn’t hold back the smile, “She was American. Sister Mary-Catherine if you must know. But she had lived for years in some Russian convent in Paris.” He’d liked Sister Mary-Catherine, she’d had a sense of humour, something a lot of priests and nuns seemed to be missing.

 

“Right. So just Russian then, you don’t speak anything else?”

 

Face shrugged, suddenly a little self conscious. The truth was, he spoke a lot of languages, it was just something his brain seemed hard wired to do. Sister Maria had taught him Spanish, useful when you lived in California. And since he’d joined up he tended to collect a little bit of the language of whatever place they went to. If he had enough time before they went out he would even buy one of those CDs and listen to it while he ran, on the plane over, even while he slept. Either way, his brain just seemed to soak it all up.

 

“A few different ones,” he answered vaguely, “Comes in handy, you know?”

 

Tilting his head sideways, Murdock just looked at him with a thoughtful, “Hmmm,” sensing the deliberate vagueness.

 

“Right!” Face got to his feet, “I’d better get going, stuff to get, you know?”

 

Murdock tried one more time, “You sure one of us shouldn’t come with you Face?”

 

Face gripped his arm, “Buddy, this is what I do, okay? Requisitions officer? I can do it in my sleep. Two hours, three max, and I’ll be back with everything we need.” His expression darkened just a little, “And if I’m not back in six, you use the Sat phone and call in an extraction. Don’t waste time looking for me, the boss is the one running out of time. When you get back to base, find the General and tell him everything. Okay?”

 

“Face...”

 

“I can look after myself, bud. You go get the boss. Promise me now?”

 

Murdock nodded miserably but Face just beamed at him, “Okay! See you later then guys!” and he ducked out of the shelter and strolled confidently along in the rain, singing softly in Russian to himself.

 

Watching him with an anxious writhing snake in his belly, Murdock didn’t notice BA until the big guy was standing right behind him, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry about that fool,” the deep reassuring voice in his ear told him, “He so jazzed up at the minute he thinks he’s indestructible.”

 

Murdock sighed loudly. That was exactly what he was worried about.       

 

_________________________

 

“BA,” Murdock wound his fingers together in worry, “it’s been five hours, he said he’d be back in three!”

 

“I know what he said! He also said to wait six hours before calling an extraction!” BA paced to the front of the shelter again and looked out into the dark night and the driving sleety rain. “We give him another hour like he said and then we make the call.”

 

“We can’t just leave him!” Murdock felt like he was being torn ten different ways. “What if he’s in real trouble?”

 

BA rubbed at the deep frown lines on his forehead as he tried to come up with an answer that would calm Murdock down. Truth of the matter was, though, they were caught between the frying pan and the fire, and BA couldn’t see how they could get out of this without third degree burns.

 

“Look, fool-” he turned to look at Murdock, but spun back, hand on his gun, as a movement to his left caught his eye.

 

Suddenly Face appeared out of the darkness; two refuse sacks slung over his shoulder and a nasty purpling bruise rising up around his eye.

 

“Problems?” BA asked blandly as Face pushed past him and into the shelter.

 

“No,” Face shot back, “but we need to get a move on, we have a train to catch.”

 

“Do it in your sleep, huh?” BA smirked as the leant against the bricks of the arch, “What happened Faceguy, you sleep walk into a wall?”

 

Face whirled around and BA was more than a little taken aback by the wild edges to his eyes, “Someone tried to rob me, okay?” Face ground out, “And right about now I bet he’s wishing he hadn’t! So drop it and get changed ‘cause we need to go!”

 

Face had already changed out of his black out gear and was wearing a black donkey jacket which he stripped off to reveal a perfectly cut black three piece suit and dark blue tie. Murdock froze in the act of unlacing his boots and stared at his friend, who, even with the black eye, looked like he was ready for an expensive night out. Face took off the black beanie, dusted with silver rain drops and shook out his hair. Murdock swallowed. It wasn’t hard to see what the boss saw in him...

 

“C’mon!” Face chivvied them, “We’re getting picked up real soon!”

 

“Picked up?” Murdock queried as he yanked his own suit from one of the sacks, “Thought we were getting a train?”

 

“We are,” Face smiled at him and for once it wasn’t that cold, empty smile, “And what’s that above us?” He pointed at the roof of the arches, “The tracks, boys!”

 

“So why we have to wear these fancy togs?” BA moaned, lifting his own dark grey suit from its bag, “If we just hitching another ride on a dirt train?”

 

Face turned to bestow his most gracious smile on him, “Ah, but Bosco, that’s the beauty of it all! It’s not just any train. I’ve scammed us a First Class compartment on the Trans-Siberian Express and it will be swinging by to collect us in...” he glanced at his watch, “ten minutes! So let’s hustle!”

 

______________________________

 

“You’ve got the compartment I asked for Uri? Right at the end? Out of the way?” Face asked in perfect Russian.

 

“Of course!” Uri, the Head _Provodnik_ looked offended as he led the team down the corridor, “That was the deal, right?”

 

Face nodded and hurried the other two into the cabin as soon as Uri opened the door for them.

 

“This First Class Faceman? Hell, I’d hate to see Economy...” BA grumbled as he squeezed into the tiny cabin with its four bunks.

 

Face ignored him and he pulled the door closed behind Uri, glancing along the corridor as he did so, and reached into his pocket pulling out a roll of tightly furled Rubles. He held them out to the _Provodnik_ who frowned suspiciously at them and then looked up at Face’s set expression. “This is not the amount we agreed,” his frown suddenly lifted and he leaned in a little closer, uncomfortably close in such a confined area, “Have you changed your mind about further... exchange of favours?”

 

Recoiling so fast he bumped into BA, Face glared at the man. “No. You’ve got all you are getting from me on that front. Think of this as insurance. You get half the money now, half when we disembark safely in Irkutsk.”

 

Uri frowned again, although Face wasn’t sure which part of his answer had upset the man, “How can I be sure that you will pay up in Irkutsk? You could just disappear into the crowds.”

 

“We could.” Face agreed, “But then you would call in the authorities, and as I explained earlier on, we are very keen to keep a low profile.”

 

Glancing quickly at BA, Uri could see why.

 

“Alright,” he relented, “But don’t think I won’t report you, if you try anything.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Face smiled his shark’s smile, and Uri stepped back to the door.

 

“I will be on duty all the way to Irkutsk,” there was an uncomfortable leer on Uri’s face, “If you change your mind about the method of payment.”

 

Face stepped forward and firmly pushed Uri out through the door, “I won’t,” he replied and slid the door shut, locking it at the same time. He stood for just a second, head bowed, breathing deeply before he turned back, and found himself looking straight into Murdock’s eyes.      

 

___________________________________

 

Murdock kicked back in his bunk and watched Face as the lieutenant stared listlessly out of the window at the black night passing them by. BA was softly snoring above them, but so far Face had resisted falling asleep, even though Murdock had offered to take first watch.

 

It had been an interesting couple of hours, starting with the mad dash along the tracks to the start of the bridge, and then a twenty minute wait in driving sleet wondering when the damn train was going to arrive; it seemed that timetables in Russia were more voluntary than anything else. He had been cold and miserable, glad of the donkey jacket Face had got for him, but still chilled to the bones by the wind and the sleet. Face, crouched in the bushes beside him, hadn’t moved or made a sound the whole time they were waiting. His eyes were fixed constantly on the distant track and he didn't even move to wipe the melting sleet off his face.

 

Eventually, just as Murdock was beginning to wonder if frost bite was setting in to his toes, a pin prick of light in the distance announced the arrival of their train.

 

“It’s here,” Face murmured. “Now we just need to wait for it to slow right down before it crosses the bridge and we are on.”

 

Just as promised, the train slowed down before crossing the ancient and crumbling bridge, and the three scrambled aboard, met at the rear door of the guard’s van by the huge, leering Uri who looked a little too like Lurch from the Addam’s Family for Murdock’s sense of comfort. He hadn’t liked the guy at all. Hadn’t like the way he had sneered at BA as if the big guy was something he would like to scrape off his shoe, didn’t like the look he gave him, running his eyes up and down the suit that Murdock could never wear like Face in a million years, but most of all, he didn't like the leer he gave Face and the way he stared at his XO’s ass as he walked ahead of them down the guard’s van.

 

Then came the very interesting conversation in the cabin. The place was warm and dry and comfortable, if not huge. But it also had a kettle and some tea and coffee, a mini fridge and a sink which Murdock was looking hopefully at, having not seen hot water for a week now. BA’s comment to Face had been uncalled for and deliberately cutting and he had received a sharp kick in the shins for his words from Murdock, but Face hadn’t seemed to notice. Of course Murdock couldn’t understand the hushed conversation between Face and the _Provodnik,_ but he could understand expression and body language, and it seemed to him that Face was most uncomfortable in Uri’s presence, while Uri himself seemed very comfortable indeed in Face’s. Too comfortable. It made Murdock wonder what the price of this cabin had been...

 

And now Face was staring out of the window in silence, and had been for the best part of an hour, rejecting every attempt Murdock made at conversation. It was making Murdock nervous, and when he got nervous he got jittery. And when he got jittery he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t keep still, and he either ate too much or not at all, and sometimes he started seeing things out of the corner of his eye and sometimes he heard those voices again and sometimes he could even feel those fingers on the back of his neck, the ones that-

 

“Murdock, buddy...”

 

Face’s voice snatched him out of his thoughts and Murdock glanced at his XO is surprise and then down at the back of his hand which was stinging and he noticed the scratches and the way his finger nails were still worrying at the skin there, and he smiled apologetically, folding his hands up under his arms to keep them still.

 

“You okay?” Face asked him gently.

 

“Sure!” Murdock smiled at him. “You?”

 

He had expected a false platitude from Face, the full, shit eating grin and a smooth lie to slip out, but instead Face just stared at him, his blue eyes wide but expressionless and whispered, “I can’t lose him, HM...”

 

Murdock felt his heart clench just a little and he shifted from his bunk to sit up alongside Face, their legs pressed together, thigh to thigh, and slipped his arm around his friend’s shoulder, pulling him tight. “You know we aint gonna let that happen now don’t you?” Face leant into him a little and Murdock warmed at the trust he felt in that one, tiny movement; sometimes Face was like smoke, impossible to grasp when you really needed to...

 

“I don’t think you get me, Murdock,” Face’s voice was slow and clear, as if he were talking to a particularly stupid child and he shifted his head around so that he could look Murdock right in the eye. “I _can’t_ lose him. I will do whatever it takes to get him back. Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

 

Murdock felt a chill settle in his stomach and he suddenly knew without a doubt that he’d been right in his suspicions over the price of their safe passage to Irkutsk. He tried to keep his face neutral, but it was hard and Face must have picked up on something in his expression as he frowned, pulling out of Murdock’s embrace and muttering, “Don’t judge ‘til you’ve tried it, HM."

 

There was no answer to that, so Murdock sat back against the wall and watched as Face drifted off into much needed sleep.   

 

______________________________

 

Forty eight hours was a long time to be on a train. Especially a train you were trying to hide on. Especially when you were trying to find someone kidnapped by the Russian mafia. Especially if you were Face.

 

Murdock and BA seemed content to lie back, staring at the landscape as it flashed by the window and just talking about anything or nothing and enjoying the peace. Face however, could not. He paced up and down the corridors, leaning out of any window he could get to open, stalking right up to the _Platzkart_ class carriages, BA’s economy, and back again, cold eyes boring into every face, wondering of any one of them knew anything about Hannibal or the Morozovs.

 

He saw plenty of Uri, it almost seemed if he was stalking Face, and he always had this really leery smile cut into his face. Creepy honestly didn’t begin to cover it. Face tried to stay away from the _Provodnik’s_ cabin as every time he walked past it, Uri was there with the door open, watching him. It sent shivers down Face’s spine every damn time.

 

Unfortunately, trains being as they are, Face found it impossible to take an alternative route, and so needed to pass Uri every time he needed a piss or he wanted to go to the sorry excuse for a restaurant car, which was far more often than he would have liked.

 

It was late afternoon on the second day, they were only mere hours out of Irkutsk and Face was allowing his thoughts to slip onto the next stage of their journey and the flight to Magadan and the fake passports he had acquired and whether or not they would even need to produce them on an internal flight and how long Hannibal had already been in Magadan and whether he was-  when he suddenly stopped short as Uri’s bulk filled the whole of the corridor in front of him.

 

Face looked up into those empty black eyes and forced out a smile, “Excuse me,” he muttered in Russian, trying to slide past the _Provodnik._

Uri, however, was having none of it. “Where are you rushing off to my American friend?” he slurred in Russian and Face’s heart sank; the guy was obviously pissed as a fart. Again Face tried to brush past, but Uri stopped him, one hand going around Face’s neck and slamming him against the wall of the carriage, Face clenched his fists but held onto his anger, beating Uri to death here would not help them to remain inconspicuous. “I want you to pay the rest of your bill now,” Uri slurred into Face’s ear, “Right now, over the desk in my cabin. Understand?”

 

That wave of anger rose up again, but Face harnessed only enough of it to wrench Uri’s hands off his neck and push himself back off the wall. “No deal,” he hissed. “We agreed on _Rubles_ and _Rubles_ it is, so fuck off. You will get nothing else from me.” Staggering back from the force of Face’s push, Uri crashed into the opposite wall, his face contorting in anger as Face stepped out of his reach. “And if you try another stunt like this, Uri, so help me I will pound your ugly face into the wall. You understand that?”

 

Uri didn’t reply, he just glared at Face through narrowed eyes, and watching his back carefully, Face turned and retreated back along the corridor, vowing to remain in the relative safety of the cabin until they arrived in Irkutsk.

 

It wasn’t to be though. Face made it about an hour to arrival in Irkutsk when the train shuddered to a halt. That in itself was nothing unusual, the train had been stopping and starting all journey long and Face had long ago given up getting paranoid about the stops. But now, when they were so close to their next stop, a flight onto Magadan and possibly Hannibal waiting for them... Face could only last twenty minutes in the cabin before he slid out and made his way along to see Uri.

 

“Hey,” he announced himself as he slid the door open and fixed Uri with a hard stare, “What’s going on?”

 

Uri was laid back in his chair, feet on the desk, half empty vodka bottle next to his boots. He looked dirty and dishevelled and more than a little drunk and Face frowned, wondering if this had been such a good idea.

 

“American...” Uri leered at him, “I was wondering if I would see you again before we arrived in Irkutsk. Lucky for you I have.”

 

Face frowned, “Lucky for me?”

 

“Yes,” Uri swung his legs down and planted his boots back onto the floor with a dull thud, “Lucky for you because now I can warn you.”

 

Face’s heart started up thumping loudly in his chest, “Warn me about what?”

 

Uri slowly rose to his feet, “The _Militsiya_ waiting for you at the station...”

 

“What?!” Face couldn’t believe this, so close to the next part of his plan, and now this? “How?” his brain couldn’t come up with anything more succinct right now.

 

Uri leered at him, taking a step closer in, “I called them,” he answered simply, “I told you how I wanted the rest of your bill paying, and you ignored me.”

 

Face narrowed his eyes, hatred spilling over from them, “Well, you’ve just forfeit the whole thing, Uri, ‘cause now you get no _Rubles_ either!”

 

“Let me fuck you and I will call them off.” The words were out of Uri’s mouth in a garbled rush and Face just looked at him, cold pity in his eyes.

 

“This the only way you can get laid, Uri?” he hissed, “Threats and blackmail? Well, forget it. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you anywhere near me. You got that? I’d rather take my chances with the _Militsiya_ any day!”

 

Face turned on his heel, mind already rushing ahead to the change in plans. He wondered if they could jump out here, make their way into Irkutsk on foot. He’d have to check the lie of the land around them , see how much cover there was, and he’d need to check the flight times, if they were walking in, it would put them about a day further back than they were. Did they have enough time for that? If the mafia did have Hannibal, then they wouldn’t be relying on ancient Russian public transport, they would have access to helicopters, jets even, might already be where ever they were going. And who is to say that was even Magadan? What if they spent so long getting out there to the ass end of the world just to find a dead end, where would they go then? How long did Hannibal even have left? What if they- and suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a solid thump to the back of the neck and he went down, ears ringing their own alarm and fireworks cracking and flashing behind his eyes.

 

He didn’t slip into unconsciousness but stayed in some weird half way state where he was aware of his body being manhandled about, but couldn’t open his eyes or hear properly or even move successfully on his own. But his sixth sense for danger, that was working just fine and was screaming at him to _Move! Wake up! Get up, damn you! Open your eyes!_ It took a while but eventually he managed, dragging his uncooperative eyelids up off his eyes, ignoring the continued fireworks and forcing his foggy eyes to focus. He didn’t like what he saw. He was flat on his back in Uri’s cabin, Uri’s not insubstantial weight pinning him to the floor as the _Provodnik_ straddled his chest, but worse than any of that was the livid red cock that was straining towards his mouth.

 

Reacting instinctively, Face tried to pull back, turning his mouth away, but Uri’s impossibly long legs were there before him, jamming into the sides of his head, keeping him facing upright. “Ah, ah, ah...” Uri breathed, the arousal clear in his voice, “You want to get off this train in one piece? You open up like a good boy and suck...”

 

Face felt as if someone had thrown a pail of iced water over him; could he do this? If this is what it took to get one step closer to Hannibal? Could he let this be stolen from him in this way? To give it away, well, that was one choice he could make, had made, but to allow it to be _taken_ , well, that was something else altogether. He’d had things taken from him before, too many times to even remember. There was a time once when he’d thought that’s all there was for him, but all of that was before Hannibal. Eleven years they had been together now, lovers for almost all that time, and if there was one thing that Hannibal had gone out of his way to drum into Face over all those years, is that he was worth more than that. That _no one_ had the right to take what he wasn’t willing to give. And those words and lessons had paid off; Hannibal still hated the fact that Face was willing to use himself as a commodity, would trade favours to get what he needed, but he was content in the knowledge that no longer would his boy allow himself to be used as a toy by those with power over him.

 

Until now.

 

Face looked up into Uri’s flushed face as he leaned forward edging his stinking, sweaty cock closer and closer and knew they didn’t have time to walk the last leg of the journey into Irkutsk, knew that they needed to be on that morning flight to Magadan, knew that Hannibal did not have the time to give Face the luxury of choices here. Uri’s hand was on his balls, squeezing harder and harder on his bare flesh, the pain building into something indescribable, and Face made his decision. He tried to stop breathing so he could no longer smell the filth on the man’s skin, Jesus, hadn’t he ever heard of soap and water? and opened his mouth, allowing Uri to push he head of his cock in past his reluctant lips.

 

He wanted to close his eyes, pretend that he wasn’t here, try and convince himself that he was anywhere rather than here, but that was something else he didn’t have the luxury for today. He fixed his eyes on Uri’s hated face as he ran his tongue round the edge of the corona, flicking the sensitive underside, reaching down to trace up the vein and then suck on the head, sealing his lips around the smooth flesh and hollowing his cheeks.

 

Bingo.

 

Uri’s eyes closed and he fell forward, trying to shove himself right into Face’s mouth, both his hands flush on the wall above Face’s head, holding him up as he moaned in ecstasy. As soon as the pressure on his balls was gone, as soon as Uri’s guard was lowered, Face struck. He bit down with everything he had, Uri’s scream of agony cut short by the fist that smashed into the right side of his head, knocking him into the wall and Face moved, flipping out from underneath his weight, spitting foul blood from his mouth before he threw up and grabbing hold of the _Provodnik’s_ head, smashing it again and again into the wall, the desire to just pound _something_ into dust far too strong to ignore.

 

Everything he’d lived through in these last few days, Hannibal, BA, Leon, those damn farmer’s kids in the forest, Uri, that punk who’d tried to rob him in Omsk, everything, just rose up like a huge black wave and consumed him, wanting him to kill something. _A_ _nything_ would do, but this bastard, who had tried to take something that wasn’t his, would never be his, was perfect. It was like Face could see himself on a screen, like he was watching with detached interest as Uri lost consciousness and blood appeared on the wall, and there was blood in Uri’s hair and then, _‘Face! Stand down!’_

Face froze. He wasn’t that far gone that he thought Hannibal was there with him, but, _Jesus_... that voice had been so real, so _close_ , so desperately _needed_ that he stopped anyway, looking with fresh eyes at the horror scene he had created. What would Hannibal think if he _had_ seen him here, just now? Face knew the answer and it made him want to throw up, god, why was he such a constant failure?

 

He ran a shaking hand over his face, backing off, dragging Uri into the recovery position, finding a pulse, hauling a blanket off the bed, wiping off the blood, trying to make it look like he’d just passed out with all the vodka, _yeah, right, Peck, and accidently banged his own head repeatedly against the wall? Who the fuck is gonna believe that?_ , getting rid of his prints, tucking himself back in, fastening up his trousers, trying to make himself look less guilty. Then he got to his feet, feeling the moving train beneath him, wondering when it had started up again, how far they were from Irkutsk now, knowing there was no way to get rid of the _Militsiya_ without Uri’s cooperation, knowing he had to get to the others, get them ready, get them out... As he slipped out of the cabin and down the corridor, the pressure was almost cracking him in two.         

 

__________________________

 

Face drummed his fingers nervously against the steering wheel of his hire car and checked for the hundredth time in the last few minutes that his hand gun was still tucked into the waist band of his trousers. BA had wanted to dump all the firepower in Irkutsk, was convinced that it would get them stopped at the airport, but Face wasn’t so sure. He knew for a fact that Russian security wasn’t up to the levels of the west, and also knew that for every official wanting to do their job properly, there were another six who really couldn’t give a damn. In the end, there hadn’t even been anyone at the security desk for the internal flight to Magadan. It was almost as if the officials thought that no one would even think of doing anything nefarious in the back of beyond like that. Despite the comfort his gun brought him, he sighed and tapped his feet anxiously, hoping to all hell that he had done the right thing in making them split up.

 

When he’d arrived back at the cabin, Murdock and BA had leapt to their feet, just knowing from the wild look on his face that something had gone radically wrong, but Face hadn’t enlightened them, there had been no time for a meltdown then. They’d packed up, wiped their prints off everything and waited until the train had started its slow approach into Irkutsk. Face had told them about the _Militsiya_ , made them wait until the station was just visible in the distance of the grey early morning, and then they had jumped, slipping down the embankment and over a fence onto the roadside.

 

Pure good luck, the first that Face had felt in a while, had found them on the main bus route to the airport, and it was riding that early morning bus that Face had decided they stood out far too much together, and would need to split up if they were to get out of Irkutsk at all.

 

On arriving at the airport, Face took them to one side and quickly briefed them, handing out passports and money and garbled instructions on what to do if one of them were detained. Neither Murdock or BA were keen on splitting up, and to be honest, either was Face, but they could see the sense in it, and Murdock could see the edges of panic around Face’s eyes and so they played along, BA’s expression about as dark as Face had ever seen it.

 

“Okay, guys?” Face had asked for about the twentieth time, “You know what to do? You know your i.d?” Face had thought he’d done damn well with the passports and visas in the limited time he’d had in Omsk. His was Russian, Murdock’s Dutch as he knew the Captain spoke the language a little, BA’s Australian, not as inconspicuous as he would have preferred, but BA didn’t speak any other languages that he knew of, and a British or American passport had been impossible to come by. He’d also given BA a worn little phrase book, and tried to emphasise the need to blend in. Then he’d sent them off, and like a mother the first time she lets her children walk to school alone, watched them both until they were out of sight.

 

Face had bought his ticket last, his pile of stolen _Rubles_ rapidly diminishing and chose an aisle seat for the eight hour flight, one where, fortunately, he could see both Murdock and BA at their seats in front of him. It was a tense eight hours, but it passed without incident. Face wondered if Uri had been found yet, guessed he would have been as soon as the train stopped in Irkutsk. He’d seen some _Militsiya_ at the airport, but the story he’d told Uri about having to get into Moscow through the back door seemed to have paid off, as it was ticket desks to Moscow and other major cities in the west that were being watched. Not desks selling tickets to the edge of the world.

 

Sokol Airport, seventy clicks out of Magadan loomed out of the thick grey blanket of cloud and Face leaned forward, trying to see as much as he could, almost as if there would be a huge neon arrow flashing in the sky, _Hannibal is here..._ or something like that. He let out a wry smile; as if his life would ever be that straight forward.

 

Passing through the airport building _had_ been straightforward, however, and so had hiring a car. And now Face was waiting by the bus station for the others, Murdock had volunteered to take the shuttle bus while BA was getting a taxi, and then they were to meet here. Face looked at his watch. No one was late yet, but he felt sick to his stomach and wondered again if he had done the right thing making them split up. 

 

Another bus swung in to the bleak little terminal, looking grey in the fading daylight, and Face let out a huge sigh of relief as he saw Murdock hop down, turn and offer up a jaunty salute to the driver then head the long way around the car park, looking to anyone watching from the bus, as if he were planning on walking to his next destination. At the last minute, he dropped down and zig zagged quickly through the lines of cars, opening the back door and sliding in behind Face.

 

“Okay?”

 

Both men spoke at the same time, and both couldn’t hold back their identical grins of relief as they bumped fists, but Murdock’s faded pretty fast after that, “No sign of the big guy?” he asked, the tension in his voice obvious.

 

“Not yet,” Face admitted, his own level of unease growing; BA had the quickest route here, he should have been the first one waiting. Face began to wonder again about sense of his decision.

 

As the two men continued to anxiously watch the road in front of them, a shadow suddenly loomed up against the side of the car and they both spun in response, Face drawing his gun even as BA opened the passenger door and slipped in.

 

“’Bout time you two showed!” the big guy grumbled as he threw his bag into the back with Murdock, “Too cold waiting for you, so I went in that shop over there,” he hooked a huge thumb over his shoulder, “Got us some hot dog things and some coffee, the food on the plane was shit...” He stopped as he saw the incredulous looks his team mates were giving him and scowled as he pulled his seat belt on. “What? You two fools think you’re the only ones can get anything done ‘round here?” he shook his head, “Sounds ‘bout right! Now are you gonna drive or what Face, ‘cos we aint getting any younger just sitting here!”

 

Face smiled again, tucked his hand gun back into the waistband of his suit trousers, grabbed one of the coffees and pulled out of the parking lot.

 

_____________________________

 

It was late at night and Face was totally exhausted. He really didn't want to give up in his search for the boss, even just for a few hours, but he’d fallen over twice now, the second time down a flight of steps near the _Militsiya_ headquarters in the city centre, not a good way to keep a low profile, and so finally had to admit defeat. He felt about as low as he could ever remember feeling in his entire life. Of course he had never expected that neon sign pointing the way to the boss, but he also hadn’t expected this total and utter blank he kept on drawing either. Not one person he had spoken to had even _heard_ of the Morovoz family, and no amount of _Rubles_ could persuade them otherwise. Face had wondered if they were just too scared to admit to what they knew, but he found that hard to believe in face after face after face, after all he knew damn well what scared looked like, and tonight he just hadn’t seen it.

 

He slipped into the abandoned warehouse near the docks that they were using as a base and almost fell asleep in the chilli that Murdock had thrown together with the rest of the supplies BA had bought, before his team mates hauled him off the box he was sitting on and almost wrestled him into a sleeping bag, watching in concern as he fell asleep the second his eyes closed.

 

“He can’t go on like this,” it was Murdock that eventually broke the silence, “I mean look at him BA, he’s dead on his feet.” He leaned over and looked closely at Face in the light of the fire they had going, “His face is all bashed up some more, you think he’s been in another fight?”

 

“Don’t think so,” BA had his arms wrapped around himself against the cold of the night, “Looks more like he fell down to me, them scrapes on his face are the same as the ones on his hands.”

 

Murdock sighed heavily, somehow falling down was worse than getting into a fist fight.     

 

“What are we gonna do?”

 

“Nothing we can do.” BA turned away and started unrolling his sleeping bag onto some flattened cardboard packaging. “Damn fool’s let the power go to his head, won’t let us do nothing ‘cept sit around here twiddling our thumbs all day. Won’t be happy ‘til he’s found the boss all on his own.”

 

“He’s just trying to keep us safe, big guy...” Murdock was scratching the back of his hand again. “But what if...” he stopped and swallowed, “What if...” BA turned and looked at him, “What if...” but he still couldn’t say it.

 

BA was at his side in a moment, taking hold of his fingers and gently stopping their incessant scratching, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he whispered, squeezing gently.

 

“But I don't want to go back there Bosco...” Murdock’s eyes were wide and BA felt them almost reaching down to his very core.

 

“No one is gonna make you go back,” he whispered, the shame he felt at his lie heating his cheeks.

 

“No?” Murdock let out a dry laugh, “They’re gonna try and who’s gonna stop them? Me? You?” he shook his head sadly, “Even Face aint gonna be able to do that, and we all know that if we lose the boss, I’m not gonna be the only one heading for the nut bin...” his eyes drifted significantly over to their sleeping XO.

 

“We aint losing the boss” BA mumbled but Murdock just looked back at him and shook his head again.

 

“Just ‘cause that’s what you want, big guy, don’t make it true. We don't even know if he’s still alive anymore, or where he is. And without the boss all three of us are in the shit. You know that.” They held each other’s stare, both recognising the stark truth of the words.

 

“Maybe,” BA conceded, “But it sure as hell aint time to quit yet. So, in the meantime you need to get yourself into that sleeping bag there next to the Faceman and get some sleep. I’ll do first watch and I’ll think on what you said, find a way round it if it kills me.”

 

Murdock looked up at him, his eyes shining wet and nodded, “Thanks,” he whispered, and BA knew he wasn’t just talking about the bed.

 

________________

 

In the early hours of the morning, Murdock and BA switched places. Murdock made BA promise not to wake Face, and while BA moaned on, grumbled that Face was taking advantage of them, he did promise and Murdock went off to check the perimeter secure in the knowledge that Face would get a good night’s rest.

 

He was disappointed however. Just as the first cracks of light were spilling into the sky in the east, Murdock came back to the warehouse to find Face, looking like death warmed over, huddled on the floor next to the remains of the fire.

 

Murdock watched him for a moment, frowning at the state he was in, before he made his way over, sitting down on the concrete right next to him, taking in the pale, bruised skin, the suit, now dirty and crumpled and finally noticing the tears that dripped silently onto the ground between his legs.

 

“Oh, Face,” he murmured, feeling his own eyes sting in sympathy, and he just grabbed onto him, pulled his XO’s tear streaked face into his own neck and held on tight.

 

Face, incredibly, let himself be tugged in like that, and Murdock felt a welcome warmth flow through him as arms came up behind him, holding on for dear life and Face started to shake as sobs wracked through his body.

 

Murdock didn’t speak, there was nothing at all he could say, he just let Face cry, holding him tightly so he wouldn’t crumble into pieces, and waited for the storm to pass.

 

It took almost ten minutes before Face came back to himself in a rush. One second he was clinging onto Murdock like a lifebelt in the current, the next he was yanking himself free, turning away, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand in a weirdly childlike way and obviously just wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.

 

“Jesus Christ...” he muttered, smearing filth from his hands onto his face and vice versa, “Fuck, HM, I’m sorry. So sorry, man. Don’t know what came over me...”

 

Watching him with concerned eyes, Murdock despaired at the one step forward two steps back that Face kept making in his ability to open up. He knew Face had some trusts issues going on, hell, who didn’t? But even so, he’d never known a guy cling onto themselves so tight. “Don’t worry, eat curry...” he muttered instead, frowning when he couldn’t even make Face smile.

 

He tried a change of tactic and stoked the fire up a bit, throwing more broken up pallet into the dying flames. “So, why don't we all go out together today then Face, look for the boss together, many hands make light work they say.”

 

Face still wouldn’t look over, was still scrubbing self consciously at his face, “No way,” he said quietly, “I can’t let you and BA go out there, they’re not used to strangers round here, you’d stand out a mile. Recipe for fucking disaster...” he muttered.

 

Swallowing his frustration, Murdock tried again, “We’d be okay. I know we haven’t done anywhere near as much of this sneaking about stuff as you and Hannibal have, but we can still do it you know. We can maybe-”

 

“No!” Face’s head whipped round and Murdock stopped short, “I am responsible for the two of you! How can I ever face Hannibal again if I let something happen to you?”

 

Murdock shook his head, “You don’t have to baby-sit us.”

 

“No, but...” Face’s anger rushed out of him and left him empty and his head sagged down into his hands, “It’s looking more and more likely that the boss won’t be going home. I can’t not send you and BA either...”

 

There was a long silence as Murdock processed this new information. So, Face was beginning to give up hope of ever finding the boss again, and more than that, he was planning on sending Murdock and BA back without him. He learned enough about Face in the last six months to know that confrontation was not the right way to handle him, so instead he made sure his voice was as quiet as possible before saying, “You know if you don’t go back, they will list you as AWOL.”

 

Face just shrugged, “Not bothered. Not going back without the boss.”

 

Murdock watched his bent head in silence for a few minutes before whispering, “What if we don’t want to come back either?”

 

That got Face’s attention. His puffy, bloodshot eyes met Murdock’s and he frowned, “But, why...” the question tailed off into nothing.

 

Poking at the rapidly rising flames, Murdock shrugged. “Why not bud? You think we’d leave you here on your own? You think we’d leave the boss while there was still the slightest chance we’d find him? You think there would be anything for me and BA to go back to without Hannibal?”

 

The two men watched each other in silence for a moment before Face looked away again. “I was nineteen when I met the boss,” he whispered, watching the fire, “Even though my papers said I was twenty three. Already been in the Army an age, already a Ranger, already commissioned,” he shook his head ruefully, “already on my way back out again, right on the edge of a dismissal.” He met Murdock’s gaze again, “Hannibal was the only one who cared enough to even try and stop my self destruction. He saved my career, he saved my sanity, hell, James, he saved my god damn life...” Face had to stop as his throat closed up again.   

 

“I know, Face,” Murdock soothed, “I know all this. I can see it in the way you look at him, the way he looks at you. I could from that very first day in Mexico, the way he touched you in the corridor before he’d even spoken to me, I knew from that second onwards what it was like for you two, I _know_ how hard this all is for you.”

 

Normally at this point Face would start yelling about how he _didn’t_ know, how _no one_ could understand how he felt about Hannibal, how no one would ever be able to even _guess_ at the pain and desperation he felt right now, but looking at Murdock, he knew that that wasn’t true. Face felt blessed every single day of his life that, in Hannibal, he had finally met someone who understood him. Now it seemed he’d been lucky enough to meet another; he doubted it would be enough to get him through this if they didn’t find the boss again, but... well, it was a start.

 

He reached out a filthy, bloodied hand and gripped Murdock’s fingers tightly in his own, no words needed to say what he wanted the captain to know.

 

___________________________

 

In the end they reached a compromise. Face would try for one more day on his own, and if he achieved nothing, then tomorrow, they would all go out. BA didn’t say anything, was fed up of being babied, was fed up of Face acting like a baby, but he could see that something had happened while he was sleeping, that Face seemed to be teetering on the edge of something, that Murdock seemed to be even more careful and attentive around him, and resolved to hold his tongue until he got chance to talk to Murdock alone.

 

He also noticed, however, that Murdock was standing up to Face more, and that Face, surprisingly, was taking it. Murdock wouldn’t let him leave the warehouse that morning until he had cleaned himself up a bit, changed out of the ruined suit, eaten the left over chilli that was warmed through carefully on the fire and let Murdock treat the new cuts and scrapes that littered his skin. And when all that was done, Face did look a bit more human, had slightly more colour about him and didn’t look like he was in danger of falling down at any second.

 

Murdock seemed calmer too, more in control which BA was pleased about. But the second that Face had slipped out again, BA found his pilot watching the lieutenant walking away, worrying at the skin on the back of his hand again and BA slipped a comforting arm around his shoulder, grabbing those busy fingers with his own and wishing that there was something he could do to distract Murdock from the emptiness and the worry while Face was out searching for the boss. 

 

______________________

 

It was another fruitless day. The thick mist of midnight hung about Magadan as Face trudged hopelessly back towards the docks. He had no idea how many miles he had walked today, how many people he had spoken to and only one person, an old guy, Rurik, in the squalid Veteran’s Home, right at the far side of town, could even remember the Morozovs. Face’s excitement had been short lived, however, as Rurik explained that following a ‘scandal’ involving the elder Morozov brother, Felka Morozov had taken her younger children, a boy and a girl he thought, and moved west, possibly to St. Petersburg, possibly to Moscow. Face had thanked him, given him almost all his remaining _Rubles_ , choking up at the wonder in the old guy’s expression and left.

 

So that was that then. No Morozovs in Magadan, not for too many years, and so, obviously, no Hannibal either. Face had dragged the team right across to the ass end of Russia, exactly opposite of where they needed to be, about four thousand fucking miles in the wrong direction. So now all they had to do was head back west, with no money and too little time, and search two cities with a combined population of fifteen million until they found the boss. Fucking perfect.   

 

He’d spent the rest of the day just walking, trying to work out where the hell he had gone wrong, and what he could do to get this FUBAR back on track and eventually found himself back at the warehouse absolutely no further on at all.

 

He was disappointed to find both BA and Murdock still awake when he squeezed in through the gaps in the wall. The last thing he wanted to do was admit to his mistake and have to tell them they were searching four thousand miles too far east. But... he was CO, that was the type of shitty thing that came with the job and Face knew he was man enough to do this. With a bit of luck BA might even just start on him – a fight would feel so good right about now...

 

Murdock rose from the fire as Face approached, his eyes so full of hope that Face wanted to lie, just so he didn't have to disappoint the guy. He couldn’t of course, and the terse shake of his head was all that Murdock needed to lose the will to stand, crashing back down next to BA on an upturned box. Face joined them, sitting opposite them in the gloom and not even noticing as the warmth of the fire reached out to him.

 

“It’s time to call an extraction,” he muttered, not making eye contact with the others at all.

 

“Finally!” BA exclaimed, “’Bout time you started making sense, man!”

 

Murdock’s eyes narrowed, “Who for Face?” he asked.

 

Ignoring BA’s confusion, Face finally met the pilot’s eyes, “I’m not leaving without him.”

 

“What?! You crazy?”

 

BA was ignored again as Murdock held Face’s eyes over the fire, “What will happen to me, Face, if _I_ go back without him?” Face frowned, he knew the answer to that, had always known the answer and Murdock nodded in recognition of the look in his XO’s eyes, “Exactly muchacho. I’m not going back without the Colonel either.”

 

“What?!” BA was almost out of his seat in outrage, “You two a pair o’ damn fools! You think I wanna go home without the Colonel either? What have I got to back to without him? But staying here, going’ AWOL?! Man, that’s just crazy!” He did rise up now, towering over Face in the darkness, his anger almost solid between them, “This is your doing man!” he hissed, pointing a thick finger at Face, “You and all your crazy talk! Gonna get that crazy fool sent down!”

 

Face and Murdock rose at the same time, Face relishing the opportunity to work some of his grief and frustration out on the big guy, Murdock seeing what was coming and desperately trying to avoid it, but before anyone could do anything, a clear, piercing voice in halting English sounded out across the warehouse, “You not say you look for a Colonel!”

 

Everyone froze, then they all moved at the same time, Face drawing his gun, BA trying to snatch it away and Murdock shifting so that he was between Face and the source of the voice.

 

“What the fuck?” Face exclaimed, keeping his gun out of BA’s reach, while several more dark shapes rose up from the direction of the voice.

 

Murdock spun on his feet, planting his back to Face and called out, “Sasha! What did we tell you? Stay out of the way until we had chance to tell our friend about you!”

 

Face leaned around Murdock and gaped in surprise at the scruffy street kid staring back at him. He seemed to be about thirteen, dirty blond hair that looked like it had been cut with a knife and fork and thin ragged clothes, nowhere near enough layers to keep him warm through a night like this. He saw Face eyeing him up and visibly straightened, his steady grey eyes meeting Face’s head on without flinching, not only standing up to the scrutiny but returning it, his own appraisal making Face feel uncomfortable. He tore his eyes away and looked at Murdock who had turned his back on Sasha and the other dark shapes and was now looking at Face, eyes wide with emotion.

 

“They live roun’ here, Face,” barely suppressed panic was causing his words to run together, “I foun’ them on a patrol, they could smell the soup I’d made an’ they were hungry, they weren’t gonna steal none, they were just lookin’ roun’ an’ I asked them if they wanted some and Sasha here speaks English a bit an’ he said yeah, an’ so I made some more, an’ it’s not like we was busy! An’ you weren’t here to ask an’ BA been teaching ‘em baseball an’-”    

 

“Jesus Christ!” Face exploded and threw up his hands, spinning round to glare at BA, “Here’s me thinking we are actually on a fucking important mission, and here’s you guys setting up a fucking soup kitchen for itinerant street kids!”

 

BA’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t man...” he warned, knowing that being around these kids all day was the one thing that had stopped Murdock tipping right over the edge.

 

Face was oblivious to the warning and stepped closer, fists tight at his side, “You don't tell me what to do!” he yelled, blue eyes blazing in the dark.

 

Never one to back down from a challenge, BA squared up to him, own fists clenching as Murdock tried to get around the fire and in between them. Yet again, however, it was Sasha’s piping voice than stopped them all in their tracks, “He your leader then? He look like a big penis to me!”

 

BA froze, while Murdock’s hand shot up to his mouth in a vain attempt to stop the snigger that burst forth at Sasha’s comment. Face turned slowly and looked back at Sasha, his movements measured and controlled and Murdock’s giggles died in his throat. Sasha stared back, no amusement in his face, just a flat stare. For a second there was silence before Face eventually said, “Not ‘penis’, kid, ‘penis’ doesn’t work as an insult. You wanna insult someone, the word you need is ‘dick’, but ‘dick-head’ would work better. Maybe even ass-hole.”

 

Sasha paused as he considered this before nodding and looking right at Face, “You look like a big dick-head to me!”   

 

Face turned and sat back down again, poking at the fire to get it higher, “You wouldn’t be the first one to think that, kid. Not by a long way.”

 

Murdock’s eyes flicked from Sasha to Face and BA before he allowed himself to sink back onto his upturned box, secure in the knowledge that no one would be punching anyone else for at least the next five minutes.

 

Face slipped into silence and Sasha took a step forward, leaving the massed ranks of his little gang huddled in the shadows behind him. “So,” he said determinedly, “You looking for a Colonel then? I know a Colonel.”

 

Sighing loudly, Face rubbed his hands up and down his arms, “Not just any Colonel,” he muttered, “a particular one.”

 

“I know one,” Sasha maintained, “American, like you. Big man. White hair. Cross.”

 

Face was up off the box and in front of Sasha, hands gripping his thin arms tightly, so fast that no one else had had chance to move, “What?!” he breathed, his heart hammering against his ribs.

 

His answer was a sharp kick to the shin which made him yelp in pain and let go of Sasha’s arms as the boy yelled, “Dick-head!” at him and retreated back into the shadows.

 

“Fucking little shit,” he moaned, rubbing at his shin while balanced on one leg.

 

“You scared him!” Murdock admonished, looking anxiously into the dark corners of the warehouse. “Sasha?” he called, “You still there? Come back and talk to us, buddy! This is real important!”

 

“No!” a petulant voice sounded from the darkness, “Not until I have a sorry!”

 

“We’re sorry!” Murdock called, “No one meant to scare you – it’s just this is real, real important...”

 

“Not scared!” Sasha’s voice called back, “And not sorry from you! Sorry from dick-head!”

 

It was BA’s turn to snigger now as Face swore quietly under his breath. Murdock however, crept closer and cupped Face’s elbow in his fingers, squeezing just enough to be felt, “Say sorry to him Face, he’s a good kid, really he is, you just upset him, s’all.”

 

Face let out a long sigh, felt to him like he was the one that should be getting an apology, but he wasn’t about to argue that point now, not when this was the first sniff of a lead they had had since that baldy bastard had pulled the boss over the train tracks.

 

He looked into the shadows, feeling slightly stupid addressing a dark corner and cleared his throat, “Look, kid-”

 

“Sasha,” Murdock interrupted.

 

Face felt his teeth grind together, “Sasha,” he amended, “I’m sorry I grabbed you okay? I didn’t mean to... startle you like that.”

 

Silence.

 

He tried again, “It’s just... Well, you were right. I am a dick-head, and I’m not the boss and I’m trying really hard to do a good job, but it’s just not me,” he took a step towards the dark and then stopped. “See, that’s what we need the Colonel for, he _is_ the boss, and he is so, so much better at it than I am...”

 

“Amen, brother...” BA muttered from behind him.

 

 Face ignored him but switched smoothly into Russian, hearing the impressed gasps from some of the younger kids, “And this tall, cross guy you’ve seen, well it does sound a lot like _our_ Colonel, and, well, if you wanna come down here and talk about it, man to man, then – I’d really appreciate that Sasha.”

 

At that Face turned and walked away, upending two boxes and setting them either side of an old packing crate. Then he went over to their pile of supplies and grabbed two cans of coke and took them back to the impromptu table, sitting on one box whilst popping both cans open and placing the other one on the crate front of the other, still empty, box. He took a long swig of his coke and just sat, knowing that Sasha would want to wait long enough to make him sweat before he put in an appearance, but that he would come, would want to be part of this conversation, _needed_ to feel needed. Face knew all this, as fifteen years ago he had _been_ that kid, maybe not cut quite as far adrift as this one, but he’d certainly spent enough time looking out for himself on the streets that he knew the way it worked.

 

He sipped his coke quietly as Murdock and BA went back to sitting at the fire and after about five minutes Sasha appeared, eyes narrowed in distrust as he slipped up to the crate and wrapped his fingers around the can. Face met his gaze and nodded at him, lifting his own can to Sasha with a murmured, “Za vashe zdorovie!”

 

Sasha lifted his drink in reply and then raised it to his lips, gulping the fizzy liquid down his throat so fast that Face couldn’t help wincing as he watched. Once at least half the drink was gone, Sasha lowered the can and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, burping loudly as he finished. A multitude of giggles sounded from the darkness but one swift stare from Sasha and they stopped, Face was impressed.

 

“So,” he leaned over the crate towards Sasha, “Tell me what you know of this Colonel then.”

 

Sasha sat up straight and looked him in the eye as he replied, “There is a big house up on the hill to the west of town, Georgiy saw the man who lives there packing up and moving out about two weeks ago so we decided to move in.” He paused for a moment, almost daring Face to say something, and when he stayed silent, Sasha continued, “Anyway, about three days ago the man came back again, and we had to scarper, but as we left I saw he had a prisoner with him, a tall American in chains, a man he called, ‘Colonel’.”

 

Face shot a fast look over at Murdock and BA, but realised that of course they couldn’t understand the conversation and so turned back to Sasha, “The Colonel, tell me what he looked like, as best you can.”

 

Sasha didn't even pause, “He was tall, taller than you and had white hair, short,” Sasha shrugged.

 

“And what was he wearing?”

 

“Army gear.”

 

Face had to close his eyes and take a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. “You said he was cross,” he said, fixing Sasha with his stare once more, “why did you say that?”

 

Sasha laughed, “That’s easy. He kept on calling the other man names. Said he would live to regret crossing him or something.” Sasha smiled, “He called him a ‘scuzzball’, I like that word, I should have called you it.”

 

Face would have laughed but he couldn’t. He knew that if he let up on his emotions by just one tiny mark, he would end up in tears again. He looked back at the two anxious faces around the fire, “It’s him,” he told them in English before turning back to Sasha as both Murdock and BA let out huge gasps of relief, but now he needed to know just one more thing, “How many men were with him?”

 

Sasha shrugged again, “I don’t know, maybe twenty?” Face nodded, “Did they have guns?” This time Sasha nodded, “And what about the man he was talking to, what do you remember about him?”

 

Taking a long swallow of coke, Sasha thought about it, “Not much,” he admitted, “He was tall too, but had a suit on. Very grey. He was all grey.”

 

“Grey hair?” Face prompted.

 

“No,” Sasha shook his head vehemently, “He had no hair.”

 

“And his name, do you know his name?”

 

Sasha shook his head, but a girl aged about ten suddenly stepped out of the shadows, her long corn coloured hair tangled around her shoulders and dirty smudges on her thin face, “It was Barsukov,” she answered timidly, “Mikhail Barsukov.”

 

Face turned and smiled at her and she suddenly turned beet red and scurried back into the shadows pulling a huff of annoyance from both Sasha and BA.

 

Looking back at Sasha, Face was up and off his seat, “Can you take me to this house?” he asked urgently and Sasha frowned at him.

 

“Now?” Face nodded and the boy shook his head, “It’s not safe to walk around town at night, too many thieves and murderers.”

 

“You will be alright with me,” Face told him.

 

There was a long pause. Sasha was obviously uncomfortable and BA stood up, Murdock rising slowly at his side. “What’s going on man?” he asked, suspicion clear in his voice.

 

Face turned to him, all his emotions bundled up tight, “He knows where the boss is,” he answered quickly, “I want him to take me but he’s not sure.”

 

“It’s not safe at night!” Sasha told BA in English.

 

Frowning at the boy, Face turned to the shadows, “I didn’t have you down as a coward, Sasha,” he said in Russian, “Maybe one of the others would be brave enough to show me?”

 

Sasha flew to his feet, knocking over the wooden box he was sitting on, “I’m not a coward!” he shouted in English and BA frowned.

 

“Georgiy?” Face called into the darkness, remembering the name Sasha had used, “You there, kid?”     

 

A tiny dark headed boy, no more than seven years old stepped out and stared at Face with awe filled eyes and Face grinned at him, “Hey, you look like a brave soldier. You think you are big enough to show me where that house is?”

 

Before Georgiy even had time to answer, BA set forward with a growl but Sasha was quicker than him, darting around the crate and catching Face with a decent punch to the kidneys before grabbing hold of little Georgiy and steeping between him and the American.

 

“No!” he spat, blue eyes looking murderously at Face, “He is just a little boy! You don't make him go out in the night!”

 

“You’re just a little boy!” Face retorted not realising they had slipped back into English, “What’s up Sasha? Worried Georgiy’s got more guts than you?”

 

Sasha’s face was filled with hate and he stepped forward, BA at his shoulder, but it was Murdock that got there first, “For god’s sake, Face! They are _all_ little kids! If Sasha says it’s not safe until light, then no one goes! Is that clear? _No one!_ ”

 

Face stared in stunned silence for a moment before he exploded, “But he’s _there_ Murdock! Don't you get that?! He’s just _there_ on the other fucking side of town, we could go and get him now, we could have him back within the hour!!!!!” Face was just about apoplectic.

 

Murdock glanced at his watch, “It will be light in just over three hours,” he ground out. “You have hardly slept in two days. Those kids, _kids_ Face, need some sleep, me and BA need some sleep. Three hours Face, that’s all...”

 

He left it hanging, that calm voice, always a balm to Face’s nerves... but this was _Hannibal_ and they had _found_ him. How could they even wait five more minutes? He whirled on his feet and in a second had snatched up the little blonde girl, holding her tightly around her waist, her back to his chest, feet off the floor, “She’ll show me!” he spat at Murdock while Sasha struggled to get out of BA’s iron grip. “I don't need any of you to come with me! She knows the way, she can show me, I’ll get the boss back on my own!”

 

“Face,” the hitch in Murdock’s voice tugged at him, “Look at her, buddy, just look at her...”

 

He couldn’t help it. Face didn't want to look, he wanted to turn and run like hell out of there and make the girl show him where to go to get Hannibal back. But Murdock’s voice was almost hypnotic, and without even meaning to, he turned his head and found himself looking into wide, tear filled, terrified eyes. A wave of self loathing washed over him and he instantly dropped the girl back on the ground with a whispered, “Prastee meenya pozhalosta...” _{Forgive me please...}_. Face watched, appalled at himself as she ran straight into Sasha’s arms and he spun on his heel, kicking the empty boxes out of his way and stormed off into a silent corner of the warehouse, throwing himself down onto a pile of sacking when he got there.

 

The blonde girl, Anya, was sobbing into Sasha’s shoulder and the other kids came creeping out of the shadows, their faces white and drawn and Sasha started to lead them all away, “Your friend?” he shouted at Murdock as they backed off, “He crazy!”

 

Murdock took a step after them, his face as white as Georgiy’s, “But you’ll still help us?” he asked, desperation in every syllable, “When it is light? You’ll show us the house?”

 

“I’ll show _you_!” Sasha snapped back, “But _he_ can go to hell!” and with Anya’s sobs still audible well after she had slipped into the shadows, the children all disappeared.  

 

_________________________

 

Every single muscle in Face’s body was taut. He lay on his side, facing the rotting wooden wall, arms wrapped tightly around himself and tried to get a handle on just what the fuck was going on with him. He’d never been a huge fan of himself, sure there were plenty of parts he liked, but there were always bits he preferred not to look at too closely as well, and since Hannibal had gone, well, those parts just seemed to be taking over. But hurting a child, grabbing that girl like that, especially after the way she’d looked at him before... shame flooded his body and he screwed his eyes shut, hating himself, hating this whole stupid mission, hating the thought of what he would do the next time he was pushed...

 

“Face...”

 

He’d been so wrapped up in his self loathing that he hadn’t heard Murdock come up behind him and right about now, seeing Murdock’s far too expressive face was the last thing he needed. “Go away,” he growled angrily.

 

But Murdock didn’t go away, Face was learning that he wasn’t that good at keeping his nose out of other people’s issues, and before he had chance to do anything more, Murdock was lying down behind him, stretching his long body out behind Face’s, covering them both against the chill night with an open sleeping bag, one arm sliding under Face’s head to act as a pillow, the other wrapping over his ribs, hand lying flat against his chest, right over his pounding heart. “You need some sleep...” Murdock whispered against his neck, “This isn’t you, buddy, you’re all strung out here, just close your eyes and try to get some sleep.”

 

Face wanted to push Murdock off him, wanted to yell at him to go away and leave him the hell alone, but that comforting weight behind him was just too much. The feel of a heart beating against his back, warm breath on his neck, was chipping away at his anger. Face was a tactile person by nature, starved of casual touch as a child, violated and abused as a young soldier, once Hannibal had shown him what it was like to be touched in love, it was all he craved. Sex, sure, he liked sex, loved it, but it was the rest, all the incidental touching, a hand on his shoulder, finger tips in the small of his back. A body pressed up against him as he slept, an arm holding him close... Despite himself, Face felt some of that anger and tension slip away and slowly, slowly, sleep pulled him in.   

 

____________________

 

BA woke them as soon as the first fingers of daylight were creeping through the broken windows. He could have woken Murdock, shook that thin shoulder gently with his hand, but he chose to kick Face awake instead, one hard kick to the sole of his boot, not painful, but enough to shock him awake instantly, pulse racing, heart pounding.

 

“Get up, Pretty Boy,” he growled, anger evident in every syllable, “We got to get the boss back,” Face could clearly hear the, ‘Before you get any more out of hand...’ tagged on the end of the sentence.

 

Face struggled to his feet, helping Murdock up behind him and returning BA’s cold stare with one of his own. “Ignore him,” Murdock whispered, squeezing Face’s hand before he let go, “He’s just worried ‘bout the boss.”

 

So was Face, but he was in no mood for going through Round Fifteen with BA, so ignoring him was just fine by him. “I need a piss,” he answered instead, squeezing out of the gaps in the wall and heading for the nearby bushes. He’d just finished up, fastened his fly and turned when Sasha appeared like a ghost from the lingering shadows.

 

Face opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as the unfamiliar sunshine flashed silver on the blade of a knife. He froze, and Sasha took another step in. “You touch any of my kids again,” he threatened, “and I kill you while you sleep. Understand?”

 

For a second Face didn’t answer; a thousand different responses were running through his head while being threatened by a thirteen year old. He knew he could take the kid down before he even realised what was coming his way, could think of half a dozen smart assed comments that would make Sasha squirm... but then he remembered Anya’s sobs and Georgiy’s white face and knew he deserved this. Instead he held his hands up in front of him, the universal gesture of peace and tried to look as earnest as possible. “I know. I’m sorry. I won’t go near any of them, I swear.”

 

For a second Sasha looked taken aback, but then he nodded, fingers white around the hilt of the dirty, blunt knife, “I’m watching you...” he whispered instead and backed up to the hole in the wall.

 

Face let him go before searching out some water to wash his hands and face in, unaware of BA watching the whole thing through a broken window.

 

_____________________________

 

It took them ten minutes to drive across town, BA at the wheel of the hire car, Murdock and Face in the back, Sasha insisting he needed to ride shotgun to direct, and Face just shrugging before sliding in next to Murdock.

 

Sasha got them to park out the back of the house, and then a quick scramble through a scrubby field filled with goats and they were there. Face checked the house out over the wall at the end of the garden. It was a large, austere looking mansion, a bit tired and grey looking, not architecturally stunning, more like a cube with a roof. Three stories, double glazed windows, basement, attic. He frowned, Fort Knox it wasn’t, but there was no obvious way in either.

 

He turned back, “Okay guys, recon op first. Murdock, take the left, BA, the right. Don’t go in unless it’s a gift. All clear?”

 

They nodded, “Are we engaging at all?” BA queried and Face’s brow creased in indecision.

 

“If we need to,” he replied, “I’ll leave it up to your judgement, but I would rather do this right, get the intel we need this time and come back if we need to rather than just storm in and frighten them all away.” He couldn’t help thinking how a set of comms links would go down great just about now...

 

“What you doin’?” BA asked him.

 

Face smiled a flat smile at him, “Going up, big guy,” he said, pointing at a thin ledge that ran right around the house between the second and third stories, “Really need to get us some flying reindeer for this job...”

 

Murdock grinned at him.

 

“What about me?” Sasha’s voice, over loud and petulant, broke into Face’s concentration.

 

“You?” he asked incredulously, “Nothing. You stay put and keep quiet and do _nothing_.”

 

“Not fair...” he spat, eyes flashing at Face.

 

Face rolled his eyes and felt his fists tightening up in frustration as he turned to meet Sasha’s glare head on, but it was BA that spoke first, “You do as you told, Sasha! You got that?” Both Sasha and Face turned to him in shock, “A place with guns is no place for a kid!”

 

“I can use a gun!” Sasha spat at him.

 

“Yeah? Well that don’t make it right! Now you stay here and you stay outta trouble or you have _me_ to answer to. Clear?”

 

Sasha nodded sullenly and Face tried really hard to keep the smirk out of his expression. Leaving a seething Sasha behind, they moved out.

 

Within two minutes Face had lost sight of both of his team. He scaled a cedar tree growing next to the house and used it to scramble onto the ledge running around the outside of the house. It was just about light now, and Face knew that he stood out like a sore thumb against the pale pebble dash of the house, just hoped that no one was up and wandering around in the garden yet... The ledge was also thinner than it looked and very crumbly, he took a deep breath, flattened his back to the wall, and started edging around the house towards the first window.

 

Face’s heart was pounding hard against his ribs as he got to the first pane of glass, and breathing out through his mouth as slowly as possible, he edged his face up to the sill, creeping up on his toes to see in. The room was long, ran from front to back of the house, and was obviously a store room, full of dusty old furniture and sheet covered objects but nothing that looked like it could have anything to do with the boss. Face glanced at the floor around the door and saw the thick layers of dust. This room obviously hadn’t been entered in a long time, so he ducked back down and moved off, his feet edging carefully along the unstable ledge.

 

The next window was smoked and Face bit back a growl of frustration as he realised he couldn’t see a damn thing through the glass. The next two windows were the same and he could feel his heart beating out an even more frantic rhythm as he edged forward to the last window on the back of the house. This time, as he approached, he could see that the glass was clear, in fact one of the windows was even open a crack and it looked to him as though this was going to be another front to back room like the one at the other end of the house.

 

He crept forward, and raised himself on his toes to look in once again. He had been right, a huge front to back room, bare and empty except for... his breath froze in his throat, a dirty mattress at the far end of the room with a long figure sprawled out on its length. The curtains at the opposite end of the room were closed, throwing the mattress and its occupier into shadow, but if Face just squinted like that he could make out chains around the figure’s wrists, clothes that looked remarkably like stained, filthy army fatigues and, his heart somersaulted, cropped greying hair. He shuffled further over, stood right underneath the slightly opened window and prepared to call through it when he was forced to duck back down out of sight as the door to the room suddenly opened.

 

Crouching on the ledge, his head right under the crack in the window, Face stilled his breathing and listened.

 

For almost ten seconds there was silence, and then the sound of water slapping against something and running across a hard surface, quickly followed by a gasp and cold laughter.

 

“So sorry, Colonel,” Face felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at that familiar voice from the train tracks. Baldy guy, it seems, was Mikhail Barsukov. “But I thought I would wake you and give you your early morning wash all at the same time today. It is getting very smelly in here,” the disdain in his voice was obvious, “I really thought you would have had more respect for yourself than this, lying in your own filth...”

 

“Well, maybe if you took these damn chains off once in a while, I might be able to do something about that!”

 

The voice was cold, and sounded tired, weak even, as well as more than just a little bit pissed off, but Face would know it anywhere. His knees sagged slightly and he grabbed at the walls with his palms just to try and stop himself from slipping. It was definitely Hannibal. They’d found him.

 

“I don’t think so,” Face forced himself to pay attention to Barsukov’s voice, “That’s what got you out of my hands all those years ago, Smith, and without you as my bargaining chip, poor Igor was sent away to die!”

 

“Poor Igor was stealing guns from the Red Army and selling them to your enemies,” Face frowned as he adjusted his assessment of Hannibal’s voice from ‘tired’ to ‘exhausted’, “You seem to be the only one who is at all bothered by his passing!”

 

There was a sharp ‘crack’ which had Face’s hands balling into fists before Barsukov spoke again, his voice cold and dangerous, “ _You_ will be bothered, Colonel Smith, once his brother gets here to see you!”

 

Hannibal was just a moment in replying and that told Face how much he was struggling with all of this, “Bohdan isn’t interested in me,” the voice was quiet and flat, “he hardly even knew Igor. The last thing he wants to do is get embroiled in some ancient revenge plot. He’s not coming, Mikhail, face it.”

 

Another sharp ‘crack’ filled the room followed by Barsukov’s furious voice, “Well, if he doesn’t then that’s bad luck for you my friend as I won’t be needing you hanging around here anymore!” Hannibal didn’t reply. “So enjoy your last full day of life, as if he isn’t here by tomorrow night, I’m putting a bullet through your head myself!”

 

A dull thud, sounding suspiciously like a kick, sounded in the room and then all was silent. Face raised himself on his toes once more and saw that Barsukov had left. Hannibal was laid out on the mattress and Face could tell at once that he was unconscious. He kicked his boot against the wall of the house in frustration and instantly began planning the boss’ liberation and Barsukov’s demise.

 

________________________

 

The others were already waiting for him when he got back to the wall. Their searches had provided good information on the layout of the house and grounds, but Face was the only one to have actually found any concrete proof that Hannibal was there. He relayed his findings quickly to them and Sasha looked at the men in surprise as Murdock bowed his head and wiped tears from his eyes and BA lifted his face to the sky in wordless thanks.

 

Suddenly the men were all totally focussed, any differences swept aside in respect of the job they had to do.

 

“So,” BA prompted staring intently at Face, “What’s the plan?”

 

Face let out a long breath as he tossed the options round and round in his head one more time. Every single nerve in his body was screaming at him to just run back into that house, shoot anything that moved, grab the boss and make a run for it, but... They had limited firepower with them, even though he had seen no evidence of guards and the others had only counted three, Sasha had said there were about twenty, so that needed some thought, they had no escape plan in place, hardly any gas in the car, they had Sasha here with them, they were right in the middle of a built up area... He didn’t have any idea what he should do, it was a classic case of his heart verses his head, so he fell back on the strategy he always used in situations like this; what would Hannibal do here? and then he had his answer.

 

He returned BA’s stare, “We do this properly. We go back to the warehouse, pack up, get a plan in place, make sure we have an exit strategy, then we come back tonight, get the boss, leave.”    

 

There was a second’s silence and it was blatantly obvious from the look on BA’s face that he didn’t like that idea one little bit. Face kept his expression neutral, kept his eyes on the big guy but didn’t miss Murdock’s foot, just nudging at BA’s gently, reminding... So BA took a huge breath in and let it out again before saying, calmly, carefully, “You positive that’s the right plan LT, ‘cause leaving the boss and coming back for him sure as hell didn’t work out so well for us last time...”

 

Face made the effort to sit on his temper, “It’s the right plan. We have to finish this properly this time, BA, no loose ends, no room for error.”

 

Brown eyes fixed him with the weight of their stare, “But what if that mob guy does turn up? He could kill the boss or take him away and we would never know where he’d gone!”

 

A frown crossed Face’s forehead, he’d thought about that in depth, “Hannibal says he’s not coming at all.”

 

“But,” this was Murdock and Face’s gut twisted uncomfortably; if _Murdock_ thought he was doing the wrong thing as well... well, where did that leave him? “Face... maybe the bossman was just winding that Barsukov guy up, maybe he doesn’t know anything about Bodhan Morozov?”

 

Face had thought about that as well, had thought really hard about the _way_ that Hannibal had delivered that line, the flatness, the almost defeat he’d heard. It hadn’t been good to hear the boss like that, but it had convinced Face that Hannibal at least believed what he was saying. It was a risk, but Face was going to have to believe it too. “I don't think so,” he’d answered cautiously, the uncertainty in his voice forcing BA’s eyebrows together, “But, shit, Murdock, I just don't know...” his breath left him in a rush, “You think we should just go for it now? Take the risk?”

 

Murdock shrugged his shoulders, “I dunno Face, you’re the boss...”

 

Face screwed his eyes shut, _But that’s just it!_ he screamed in his head, _I’m not!_

 

“You should wait,” all eyes turned incredulously to Sasha, “That man?” the boy hooked a grubby thumb back at the house, “He’s one bad man. Sells guns to go on the streets. Bad man. You will need lots of guns to get past him.”

 

Another loaded silence fell before Face finally moved back towards the car, “We wait,” he confirmed, and with nothing more than heavy sigh, BA followed.

 

___________________________

 

Hannibal forced his eyes open and blinked through the sunshine coming in through the windows at the back of the house. The sight of blue sky coaxed a smile from his dry lips, he hadn’t thought the sun _ever_ shone in this dreary corner of the world; it was nice to see a bit of blue sky. He shifted up on the mattress, trying to get into a sitting position so he could lift his hands high enough to feel his head where that bastard Barsukov kicked him earlier on. The way his wrists were chained together and then to the wall made it very hard to use his hands at all, for eating or drinking, not that he’d been given much of either since he’d been here, or for toileting, which he absolutely _hated_.

 

He eventually managed it, propping his back up against the wall as he got his breath back, feeling like an old, old, man and prodded about on his head, touching a lump and dried blood. He let out a sigh and let his hands fall back down into his lap, looking in disinterest at the swollen, infected skin on his wrists and knowing that he was in deep, deep trouble this time. All the hell holes in all the corners of the world he’d been to, all the certain death situations he’d squeezed out of, and here, a squalid bedroom right on Russia’s furthest edges, this is where he was going to breathe his last. He’d never have thought it.

 

The boys weren’t coming for him, Barsukov had told him where he was and he knew that Face would never be able to track him all the way out here. His ‘fifteen years ago’ clue was too subtle, of course the boys would never have picked up on that, and he’d seen the look of almost panic in Face’s expression; the kid probably hadn’t even been listening to him... He should have made it more obvious, or at least just told Face to call Bunter or one of the others, but Hannibal had been near panic himself, he’d been terrified that Barsukov would just turn that gun around and shoot one of his boys. He knew for a fact that if the poisonous old Russian knew even half of how much Face meant to him, the kid would have had a bullet in his forehead the second he’d caught them up. Hannibal shuddered.

 

Yes, he’d been well and truly played this time, and thinking of his boy, frantically searching that forest around Omsk, desperate to find the boss, all those old feelings of abandonment rearing their ugly heads again... it was pure torture. But at least the kid wasn’t completely on his own, at least he had Murdock and BA with him this time. Hannibal hoped against all hope that that would be enough for him, enough to keep him from that whirlpool of self destruction and despair that Hannibal had hauled him out of all those years ago...

 

There was no hope for Hannibal here. He knew Bohdan Morosov wasn’t coming, Barsukov was the only person in the world who felt aggrieved at the treatment Igor Morosov had suffered at the hands of the Russians. Hannibal remembered the guy from back then, he’d been Igor’s PA or something, always at his beck and call, always on the sharp end of Igor’s tongue, and Hannibal could never understand that fanatical loyalty, even then.

 

He’d gone absolutely off his rocker when Morosov had been arrested, yelling and threatening everyone around him that he would kill them for this. Even Hannibal. Especially Hannibal... But it had been Bunter he’d managed to get his hands on first, and Hannibal had had his turn of fury when he realised that Barsukov had dared take one of his boys. He’d gone in on his own, not waited for back up, not waited for a proper plan, and that bastard Barsukov had surprised him, had his own personal army just waiting to snap him up. So before he knew it, he and Bunter were in a cell together, Barsukov promising that Hannibal would have to watch Bunter die, slowly and painfully, before he could meet his own death, just like Barsukov would have to watch Igor die in jail.

 

But Hannibal had other plans, managed to con one of the guards into taking his chains off by pretending to be trying to hang himself with them. Broken the poor sod’s neck, freed Bunter and the two of them blasted their way out with stolen guns. He sighed as he remembered the mess he’d almost made of that op, and that it had been Bunter, only twenty three at the time, who had almost paid the price. At least he had _that_ this time, at least he was here on his own without having to look at Murdock’s huge eyes, or BA’s scowl or... god, or Face as they hurt him...

 

No, at least it was only his own mortality he had to consider. He looked back at the little patch of blue once more, trying to lift his morbid thoughts, trying to make himself believe in a miracle that wasn’t going to happen, and then he froze, his breath stalling in his chest and his heart suddenly pumping wildly. There, in the grime of the window was a shape he was positive had not been there before. It was a circle, a crude circle made up of lots of tiny interlinking shapes drawn in the muck with obvious care, it almost looked like... like... a paracord bracelet. And there, right in the centre was a single letter F. Hannibal closed his eyes as hope surged through him with the force of a wildfire. His wonderful, resourceful, incredible boy had found him, was coming for him.

 

______________________________    

 

Face didn’t have the energy to object when Sasha dived straight back into the front passenger seat of the car, and instead he just flopped into the back, trying to get rid of the sights and sounds and smells of Hannibal in that horrendous room so that he could concentrate of getting his plan just right. Just perfect.

 

The ride back passed in silence until they reached the entrance to the warehouse district and BA stopped, pulling over to the side and turning in his seat to speak to Face, “We gonna need some gas, man, if we pulling out tonight.”

 

Face nodded, “Okay, there’s a gas station about six miles down that road, we passed it on the way in, let’s just drop Murdock and Sasha off and I’ll-”

 

“No,” BA cut him off, “I’m fed up of doing nothing all day. I’ll drop all three of you off, and go on my own.”

 

For a second no one spoke, Face and Murdock traded a glance before Face shrugged, “Fine, but I don't have any more money to give you.”

 

“S’okay,” BA grinned at him, “still got plenty from what you gave me in the airport. It’s sorted.”

 

Face nodded again, “Alright. Just keep a low profile and get back here as soon as possible,” BA threw off a mock salute, seeming to be pleased to be let off the leash for a change and Face pulled himself up out of his seat, “C’mon, guys,” he said to the other two, “we can walk it from here, let BA get going.”

 

Sasha and Murdock scrambled from the car as well, Murdock’s eyes holding onto BA’s face just a second longer than necessary, and then the car gently pulled away, BA doing exactly what he’d been told to and keeping a low profile.

 

They walked quietly back to the warehouse, Face with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, Murdock and Sasha walking just behind him, deep in conversation over whether Sponge Bob or the Simpsons were the best cartoons to learn English from. They were just in sight of their dilapidated base of operations when a shout made them all stop.

 

Murdock looked over to the warehouse as some of the other kids squeezed out through a broken window and started running to Sasha, all shouting in Russian, some in tears, some sporting cuts and bruises. Both Sasha and Face went white, Sasha was obviously cursing freely in Russian, while Face dropped down in front of the biggest boy, a red head called Dimi, and started firing rapid questions at him, exchanging comments and looks with Sasha all the while.

 

Murdock stood in confusion feeling Georgiy’s hand creep into his while Face and Sasha quickly conversed in hurried Russian, then, a decision obviously made, Dimi started pushing the other two boys who were brothers and looked about nine, towards the warehouse while Face pulled his gun out of his waistband and checked the clip. “Murdock,” he hissed already backing off with Sasha urging him to move faster, “Stay with the kids, take ‘em back to the warehouse,” Sasha yelled at him to hurry up and Face turned and snapped something at the boy in Russian before turning back to Murdock, “Get your gun out and keep it out,” he shouted as he backed off, “And whatever else happens, make sure you go back for the boss tonight!”

 

“Face!” Murdock yelled as Face and Sasha now turned as one and sprinted down the road, “Face!” he took a step to follow, but Georgiy started crying again and Dimi was standing by the warehouse shouting him and Murdock took another look around and suddenly something struck him, “Hey!” he called over to Dimi and the others, “Where’s Anya?”

 

__________________

 

It took Face and Sasha twenty minutes to get to the waterside where all the container ships were moored, and Face was impressed to see that the boy wasn’t even breathing hard. The route they’d taken had been direct and obviously designed for those under the age of sixteen, but Face had managed, hauling himself through tiny gaps in walls and through floor boards while Sasha stood waiting and bristling with impatience. Now they were here though, Face took charge, pulling Sasha back as he prepared to go charging out onto the dock side and making him stand with his back to the wall, almost unnoticeable in the shadows.

 

“What?” Sasha hissed at him in Russian, “What are we waiting for? They could leave at any minute!”

 

“And they might leave even quicker if they see us!” Face hissed back at him, “Now, what boat do you think it is again?”

 

“Something, _Orion_ ,” Sasha answered.

 

“Right,” Face frowned, “and you say these guys have been sniffing around before?”

 

Sasha nodded morosely, “Always. They’re always here. We have to keep moving on all the time. They always have the same ship,” he was trying to lean around Face and see for himself, “but it’s none of these, they are all too big! What if it sails before we find it?!”

 

“Alright,” Face calmed him, “We’ll get up there,” he pointed to a boardwalk running the length of a waterfront warehouse, “and we will be able to see much better, now, come on.”

 

It was a scramble up rickety ladders to get to the top, but they made it eventually and Sasha almost ran the entire length, his keen grey eyes flicking out at the massed ranks of ships moored around them, “There!” he shouted, pointing excitedly at a rusty looking tanker, right at the end of the row.

 

Face yanked him down and they both laid on their stomachs on the roof as Face pulled out his binoculars and started checking the boat out.

 

“What are you doing!!!” Sasha hissed, “Let’s go!”

 

“No,” Face murmured, intent on his task, “we need to plan a route in, another route out, decide on the most likely place they will have her. We won’t be doing any good to Anya if we just charge in half cocked.”

 

“You have to hurry!” Sasha implored, “They can’t take her... They just can’t!” he whispered, and he sounded so like Face himself, that keening note of desperation, that Face lowered his binoculars and looked around, noticing the tears standing in Sasha’s usually so cold eyes.

 

“They won’t,” Face reassured him, turning back to the boat and after a minute adding, “She must be something really special to you.”

 

“My sister,” Sasha muttered and Face could see him angrily rubbing at his eyes in the corner of his vision, “My only family. And you obviously don't have a sister, or you wouldn’t say such a stupid thing!”

 

Face adjusted the focus of the binoculars and refused to let Sasha goad him, “No, you’re right,” he answered flatly, “I don't have any family at all. Not a one.”

 

There was a silence from behind him, then Sasha spat, “Liar!”

 

Shaking his head without looking around, Face turned the binoculars onto the wheel house, “Why would I lie about that?”

 

“What happened to them, then?”   

 

“I don't know,” Face muttered, wishing he hadn’t got into this just now, “They left me when I was a baby.” He’d decided that a slightly adjusted version of the truth would be best just now.

 

“So, where’d you grow up?”

 

“Orphanages, bit of time on the streets. I’m sure you understand the drill.”

 

“Humph,” Sasha spat. “You wouldn’t catch me going into an orphanage! I like to be my own man!”

 

Face lowered the binoculars and turned on his elbow to look Sasha right in the eye, “Yeah? And do you like being cold and hungry as well then, Sasha? And what about Georgiy and Dimi and the twins, do they like being too scared to sleep sometimes? And Anya? You think she likes these men dragging her off like this, wanting to sail her away and sell her as someone’s sex toy?”

 

Sasha went deathly white and Face suddenly felt bad for his little outburst, “Look, kid,” he soothed reaching out to squeeze Sasha’s shoulder gently, “I know what it’s like, I’ve lived the life that you are in, and I know how hard it is, and I only ever had myself to think about, you’ve got all the others too. And I know orphanages aren’t ideal, but maybe you should just think about it? Maybe you could have a look at one or ask the others what they think? Hey?”

 

Sasha shrugged and Face turned back to the boat, “But for now...” he muttered, training the binoculars back on a window just along from the wheel house, “I think we have struck gold.” 

 

“Let’s go then!” Sasha whispered, a deadly gleam in his eye that Face didn't like one bit.

 

“Not you, hot shot,” he muttered in reply handing the binoculars over, “You get to stay here and run this end of things.”

 

“What!” Sasha was outraged, “I’m not letting you go in after my sister! You are the one who grabbed her last night!”

 

Face sighed, “Look, Sasha, we’ve been over that and I said I was sorry. Now you go in there, and you just make it harder for me, ‘cause then I will have you _and_ Anya to worry about!” Sasha opened his mouth to protest but Face pushed on, “Plus I will need you to go back and get Murdock and BA if this doesn’t work out, we didn't even tell them where we were going,” Sasha frowned as he saw the sense in that argument, “And,” Face paused for effect, “what will happen to the others if something happens to you? I’m not the leader here, _but you are_ and a damn good leader as well. You’ve kept all those other kids alive and safe, and they all look up to you and listen to you. If something goes wrong and you don't go back, Sasha, what will happen to them? Is Dimi ready to take over?”

 

Sasha shook his head.

 

“Would he be as bad a leader as me?”

 

At this Sasha gave a tiny smile which warmed Face from the inside, “No one is as bad as you, dick-head!”

 

Face laughed as well, “Okay then. You stay here, watch really carefully and when we are out, you meet us over there by that corner right?” Sasha nodded, “And if anything goes wrong, you run and get the others; as fast as you can, yeah?”

 

Sasha nodded, but still looked far from happy. Face slapped him gently on the knee and turned to drop back down the wooden ladder. He’d not gone far, maybe ten metres or so, when Sasha’s face appeared above him, “Hey!” he hissed and Face looked back up, “Good luck...” he whispered and Face smiled, continuing down the ladder.

 

_____________________

 

The hardest part of getting to Anya was actually getting aboard the boat in the first place. Face had checked out the gang plank which was still down but discounted that as being too open. The chains fastening the ship to the wharf had tempted him for a few minutes, but then he’d seen how loose they were, how they sagged down towards the frigid sea, and didn't fancy his weight pulling them down even further; it was far too cold for a dip. That only left a couple of ropes, they seemed a lot tauter than the chains, but he wondered how securely they were fastened and whether they would hold his weight at all. None of the options had seemed particularly appealing, but in the face of limited time, Face went for the ropes.

 

It was broad daylight, and he knew that if anyone was watching when he made his way across the wide empty space from the warehouse to the ropes he would be spotted at once, so he didn't try to hide, no point looking suspicious, he tried to blend in by being ordinary, pulling a knitted beanie on over his hair and strolling casually across the wharf. Then, at the last minute, he took his life into his hands and jumped for a rope, catching with both hands and a leg, hooking on tightly, relieved that it held his weight, and wishing he had some gloves.

 

Hand over hand he pulled himself across, feeling the burn on his palms and the heat against his ankles. It was a long way over, longer than it had looked from above and by the time he could reach out for the side of the boat, the muscles in his arms were screaming in pain. He ignored them however, and grabbed hold of the railing, hauling himself up to peer over the side, and seeing no one about, quickly swung a leg over and slid onto the deck.

 

He took a minute to get his breath back and look up at Sasha’s hiding place, the glint of glass in the sun told him the kid had stayed put as instructed, so he pulled in a huge breath and then made his way along the deck, hugging the railing as he went, heading straight for the steps to the wheel house.

 

The ship was silent, but there were voices from the wheel house that Face ignored, creeping on past, looking for another door, a door to the windows he had seen from the warehouse roof and there it was, slightly ajar, voices coming from within once more. He shuffled forward and flattened himself against the wall next to the door frame listening to the heavily accented English coming from within.

 

“I’m telling you! We will get much more money for her if she is a virgin! Can’t you keep your hands to yourself for nine days?”

 

Face slowly leant around the door at ankle level and found himself looking straight into Anya’s terrified face. She was leaning against the wall at the far side of the room, hands tied in front of her, ankles free, tears leaking silently from her blue eyes and leaving clean streaks on her dirty face. Her terror seemed to double as she saw Face, but he winked at her and smiled, placing a finger to his lips and she seemed to relax minutely, knowing that he wasn’t here with these other men, he couldn’t possibly be as bad as them, and then she noticed Face motioning her to look away from him and she did, staring down at her feet instead.

 

There were three men in the room, still arguing over whether it was worth the financial loss to violate Anya before they reached their eventual destination and Face was eternally grateful that her English was nowhere near as good as Sasha’s. He had his gun in his hand, knew he could take them all out in seconds, but he didn't have a suppressor, there were more men in the wheel house next door, all could be armed, and the wheel house stood between him and the way out. He looked behind him, and noticed a mop standing up against the railing and an idea, straight out of Tom and Jerry, suddenly popped into his head. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he fed the mop handle through the bars of the doors, and hoped they would seal the door for long enough to give him and Anya chance to escape.

 

Then he moved back to the other room, and felt his hackles rising as Anya’s sobs reached his ears before he even got there. Leaning carefully around the door frame again he saw one of the men, the biggest one that had been most eager to deflower their guest, trying to pull the terrified girl to her feet, one meaty hand reaching under the hem of her skirt.

 

Face moved. In two blinding flashes, two of the men lay at his feet. Meat-hands was dead, the bullet going right through his neck and out of the other side, the other man, the one arguing vociferously to keep Anya a virgin, was clutching his thigh which was bleeding profusely. The third man made a dash for the door but Face was faster, a punch to the jaw, then to the side of the head, then a jab across his neck, and he was out cold on the floor. Face grabbed for Anya, and felt her terrified shaking as he pulled the thin cords from around her wrists. “You!” he spat, looking the only conscious man straight in the eye, “You better leave these kids alone, you got that?” the man, tears of pain leaking from his eyes, nodded frantically, “You put the word out that they are protected, they have guardian angels, not just me, others as well, and if anyone touches anyone of them again,” he pointed to the dead man bleeding out all over the floor, “then they end up like him. Clear?”

 

He was nodding frenetically, Anya’s wrists were free and there was frantic banging coming from the wheel house next door; Face decided it was time to leave.

 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered to Anya in Russian, “Sasha’s waiting for you,” and he pulled her to her feet and held her hand tightly as they fled along the gangway and down the stairs.

 

They hadn’t quite reached the door to the hold before gunfire sounded after them, and Face grabbed Anya close into him with one arm while he turned and fired off some returning shots with the other. His plan had been to get back to the gangplank and leave that way, but that seemed a little awkward now as men, alerted by the shouting and the gun shots, were all streaming up from below decks. Face cast about for inspiration and saw something that made him grin wildly. Keeping Anya tucked under his arm, he slowly advanced until he was right next to a black and shining chrome Suzuki Boulevard, keys helpfully sitting in the ignition. He swung his leg over the leather seat, pulling Anya on behind him, feeling her thin arms latch around his waist like a vice and then letting her go so that he could start the engine with one hand and fire off more shots with his other.

 

The engine caught first time, a beautiful throaty purr that reverberated right around his chest, and he kicked it off its stand and into action, blasting up the side of the deck, forcing men to dive out of his way as he hurtled towards them and then spinning at the last minute, aiming for the loading ramps that were now propped up against the railing. He gunned the engine, letting the bike have its head and heading flat out for the ramp, “Hold on!” he yelled at Anya as they hit the wooden ramp, one of his hands almost coming loose in the process and then they were airborne, flying over the side of the ship, the water below, the wharf and coming to a hard landing on the wharf side right next to huge stack of wooden crates.

 

Anya had screamed as the bike was launched into the air and now had her head buried in Face’s back, her arms so tight around him they almost hurt. He gunned the bike across the wharf, heading for the corner where Sasha already lurked, still partially hidden by the shadows. Face skidded the bike to a halt next to Sasha whose open mouthed stare was almost comical and was about the tell him to get on behind Anya when gunfire exploded around them from the gangplank of the boat.

 

“Shit,” he muttered and quickly adjusted his plans. He swung the bike around so that his body was now in between Anya and the bullets and yelled, “Anya, get off honey, go with Sasha!” but Anya held on even tighter to him.

 

“Get off!!!” Sasha yelled at her, pulling on her arm, but Anya’s grip only got stronger, burying her head in Face’s jumper, too terrified to even lift her head as the gun shots got louder.

 

“Shit!” Face swore again, and quickly moved onto plan D, or was it E? He had seriously lost count... “Okay, Sasha,” he yelled over the gun shots and the bikes engine, “You take off on foot, kid, get back to the warehouse, I’ll lead them off, throw a false trail.”

 

“Anya?!” Sasha yelled, his eyes wide with his own fear.

 

“I got her, she’s okay, now go!”

 

Sasha took one last glimpse at his sister as Face swung her around so she was now sitting in his lap, skinny legs over his thighs, her whole head just about under his arm and nodded, spinning on the spot and instantly disappearing into the shadows. Face looked over his shoulder at the approaching gun men, took a deep breath and whispered, “Hold on tight, sweetheart!” before gunning the engine and popping just a tiny wheelie as the powerful bike shot out across the open concrete.

  

______________________________      

 

BA drove sedately back to the warehouse. It had been good to get out on his own, even if it was just for an hour, even if it was just buying gas. Whatever. It had just been good to get away from all the emotions that had been flying around, thick and fast, these past few days.

 

He parked the car round the back of the warehouse and walked steadily round to one of the gaps in the walls. He hoped Face had had chance to get his head out of his ass and start coming up with a plan, as they needed to get the boss and get the hell out of this damn country as fast as possible. BA knew that if he ever went to Russia ever again, it would be too damn soon...

 

He wandered into the main part of the warehouse, and instantly his good mood vanished; it was like he’d just walked into hell. The tall red head, Dimi, was walking up and down swearing loudly in Russian and kicking things while Murdock was pacing on the far side of the room, hands frenetically opening and closing and looking around at the younger children in despair. Georgiy was laid full length on the floor, crying loudly into his arms and looking like he was on the verge of absolute hysteria, while the twins, Foma and Ilia, were huddled together in a corner, looking practically catatonic.

 

BA glanced in disbelief from one distressed face to the other before barking incredulously at Murdock, “What the hell’s going on?!”

 

For a split second, Georgiy stopped howling and Murdock took his chance to drop to the boy’s side, nervous hands fluttering over his shoulders, while Dimi surged forward, rapid Russian surging from his lips, the only word BA could pick out? _Anya_.

 

BA felt that familiar anger surge again, “What’s that damn fool gone and done now?” he shouted at Murdock, noticing Face was conspicuous by his very absence.

 

Murdock, now having to try and cope with a freshly sobbing Georgiy clambering into his arms, opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off at the sound of a powerful motor bike engine approaching outside. Dimi was off like a shot, vaulting out of a broken window, Foma and Ilia scrambling to follow him, even as BA yelled at them all to stay inside, stay hidden. In the end, he just heaved a huge sigh and took after them himself, Murdock and Georgiy bringing up the rear.

 

It wasn’t easy clambering out of the broken window with a seven year old, admittedly a very small and skinny seven year old, hanging around your neck, but Murdock managed it, just in time to see a huge black and chrome motorbike scream up the potholed road towards them. It was obviously Face at the handlebars, his black combat gear cutting a striking figure in the washy sunlight, but Murdock couldn’t see who was with him. He squinted against the sun at the pale figure clinging to Face’s chest like a baby possum and frowned, he still wasn’t at all sure what had happened to Anya, but from the reactions of the boys, Dimi in particular, it didn’t look at all good.

 

At the last second, Face squeezed the breaks and the bike slid to a graceful stop, back wheel swinging around as Face’s foot found the floor. The boys ran up to him, as excited to the bike as to see Anya, but them froze a few meters away, uncertainty on their faces as they registered Face’s black expression, Anya’s sobbing state and the obvious lack of Sasha. Face kicked the stand down on the bike and swung his leg off, taking Anya with him, still clinging to his front as if she weighed nothing at all. He snapped at the boys to get back inside and Murdock went with them, heading them away, looking over his shoulder at the terrified child, noticing her torn skirt with a very sick feeling starting up inside.

 

But he froze at the broken window, Georgiy squirming in his arms now and watched as BA stormed up to Face, anger radiating from every pore on his body and stopped the LT with a big hand straight into the front of his shoulder. Face looked up from Anya’s face to meet BA’s glare and his own expression darkened even more. “Hey!” BA yelled, his bulk blocking Face’s path, “What the _fuck_ you done, man? What did Sasha say to you about touching any o’ them kids again?!”

 

Murdock started forward with a warning, “BA!” flying from his lips, but Face was quicker.

 

The look of absolute contempt on his face as Murdock came in front of him shocked the captain to the core. Keeping one arm tightly around the trembling Anya, he used the other to shove BA, hard, out of his way. “Drop it!” he barked, and BA almost swallowed his rage at the look in his eyes, “If you wanna do something useful for once,” Face snapped at him over his shoulder as he carried Anya towards the warehouse, “Get that bike hidden and see if you can see Sasha coming back!”

 

Murdock and BA exchanged stares, both almost as livid as each other’s before Murdock turned and followed Face inside. BA stood in stunned silence for a minute, then, temper slowly stoking back up again, realised he was the only one left outside and kicked the bike off its stand, leading it away around the side of the warehouse.

 

Murdock had no time for BA right about now. He’d maintained all along that the big guy should cut Face a bit of slack, and he certainly shouldn’t talk back to him the way he had been, but this, this was just the last straw. What the hell did he think Face had been _doing_ with Anya? Surely he could never think in a million years that Face would... _Jesus_... Even BA couldn’t think that.

 

Anya was obviously distraught, Sasha was missing, Face looked pissed off beyond belief, and Georgiy was still clinging to him like a baby chimp, but given the choice of suffering BA’s scowl or heading in with the others, he knew damn well what he wanted to do.

 

As soon as he was inside, he could hear Anya’s muffled sobs. Face had sat down on some of the crates at the back of the warehouse and was letting her cling to him, her whole body crushed up to his, still shaking in fear. He was stroking her hair as she sobbed into his jumper, whispering quietly in her ear, the boys standing three or four metres away, wanting to go to her, but too much in awe of Face to try.

 

Murdock froze as he watched Face, now stroking Anya’s cheeks with his big hands, smoothing away the tears, trying to get her to breathe deeply, open her eyes, calm down a bit. All that care, all that tenderness, something he’d never seen from the man before, not even with Hannibal. He wished that BA was here to see it, wished that the big guy could stop just long enough to see _something_ in Face to respect. He wondered what the problem really was with BA and Face, he’d asked, of course he had, that train journey to Irkutsk was boring as sin, and Face was always out prowling the corridors, making himself sick with worry and exhaustion, so Murdock and BA had had plenty of time to talk. Plus, that was just Murdock’s way; he wondered something – he asked it.

 

But BA hadn’t said much that made sense, he’d said Face was a ‘fool’, he was flaky and couldn’t be trusted. Murdock knew it wasn’t that, there was something else bothering BA and Murdock would damn well find out what it was before it broke apart the best thing that had happened to him in his entire adult life...

 

Georgiy squirmed out of his arms now and ran to the other boys, Ilia slipping an arm around him as he leaned into them. Murdock flexed his biceps, he hadn’t realised how heavy the kid was getting, and looked back over at Face and Anya. Anya’s tears had stopped now, and she had shuffled back off his knee so that she was sitting on the crates in front of him. His hands were cupping her face, trying to get her to look at him, but her eyes remained stubbornly downcast, her fingers writhing together in her lap but she was nodding at something Face was saying to her. He said something else and smiled and waited, and then she looked up, her own watery smile eventually cracking up the corners of her mouth and Face’s grin got wider, speaking again and laughing, making Anya laugh with him.

 

Then there was a light thump in the corner of the room, and Sasha stepped out of the shadows, filthier than usual and breathing hard, but eyes only for Anya as he ran across the room. Face was moving back, trying to give them some space, but Sasha grabbed him hard around his neck with one arm, while the other went right around Anya’s shoulders and he pulled all three of them in, his and Anya’s heads bent together, Anya’s white hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders.

 

Murdock watched them for a minute, a lump in his throat, then as the younger boys eventually found the nerve to join the embrace, Face pulled back, clearly awkward, trying to disentangle himself from the pile of arms and legs that was wrapping its way around Anya. He slipped out, dropping a chaste kiss on the top of Anya’s head as he went, but Sasha was there in an instant, grabbing the sides of Face’s head with his dirty, almost-man’s hands and holding him still while he leaned forward and kissed him hard, once on each cheek before pulling back and looking fiercely into Face’s stormy blue eyes.

 

“Thank you,” he said loudly and in clear English, but the tremor in his voice was obvious, “for saving my sister.”

 

Murdock saw Face blink hard, two or three times before he lifted his hands and squeezed Sasha’s wrists where they still held his face, “You’re welcome, kid,” he muttered, his voice thick, and then he removed Sasha’s hands and slipped away, head bowed, hands in pockets as he retreated to the far side of the warehouse.

 

___________________________

 

BA had stashed the bike out of sight, and now he was heading back in to have a few words with Face. This whole thing had gone too far. Hannibal obviously didn’t know how much of a loose cannon this kid was. The whole flying off the handle thing, beating up on that poor kid in the forest, obviously sleeping with that guy on the train and then coming back splattered in blood, that had all been bad enough. But hurting kids, taking that poor little girl to do who knows what with her... BA’s blood ran cold. There was no way he could let this go on. The guy wasn’t fit to lead, hell, wasn’t even fit to be a soldier. BA had met people like him before, people who had joined up for all the wrong reasons... Just never thought he’d meet one of them that was sly enough to pull the wool down over Hannibal Smith’s eyes with it.

 

He saw Face sat on a crate at the far side of the warehouse, back to the rest of the room and headed over, fists clenched and eyes narrowed. He didn’t get far though, before a tight hand fastened around his bicep and he turned, anger flashing in his eyes to find himself face to face with Murdock.

 

“Where ya going’ Bosco?” Murdock drawled lightly, one eye on Face’s bent head at the far end of the warehouse.

 

BA angrily shook Murdock’s hand off him, and stood his ground, his voice a furious whisper to try and avoid  spooking the kids who were still huddled together on the crates. “Someone has to do something about pretty boy over there,” BA hissed, “Hurting that girl? That’s just too far gone!”

 

Murdock’s eyes were as cold as flint, “He didn’t do nothing to that girl you dumb ape!” Murdock spat at him, “Some no-goods took her while we were up at the house with Sasha! Face and the kid went and got her back!”

 

BA’s eyes flicked over to where Sasha and Anya were now talking quietly, edges of doubt creeping into his eyes, “Yeah, that's what he tells you, crazy fool! Don’tcha think it’s just a bit handy that no one here but him speaks the lingo though? No one can really tell you what went on?”

 

Rolling his eyes, his fists clenched in fury, Murdock stepped forward, “What?! BA, just what the _fuck_ is your problem with Face? Of course that’s what went on! Ask Sasha if you don’t believe anyone else! You’re on his ass the whole damn time, BA! What gives?!”

 

“Nothin’, man!” BA growled, “He just a damn fool and I’m fed up of having to listen to him all the time!”

 

“Well, that’s too bad, Corporal,” Murdock and BA both jumped at the sound of Face’s sharp voice behind them, “because until we get Hannibal back, you have no choice!”

 

BA narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, “Yes, I do,” he answered.

 

Face’s expression didn’t change, “No you don’t,” he countered. “Not unless you want an Article 92 on your records that is.”

 

 BA’s fists tightened, “Hannibal would never do that!”

 

Face cracked a grim smile. “Hannibal wouldn’t have to, just me. And _I_ would. Most definitely. But then the boss would still back me up, once he hears what’s been going on.”

 

“Hannibal would back you up if you let him fuck you!” BA shot back.

 

Only the slightest tightening of Face’s eyes betrayed how deeply that low blow had hurt, but he didn’t let it wind him up. “And that’s an Article 89,” he replied blandly instead.

 

There was a tense minute, BA and Face staring each other down before BA whirled on the spot and went to storm off. “Corporal!” Face barked at him and BA stopped, slowly turning back around. Face stepped in so that they were nose to nose, “I have just about had enough of your attitude around here, soldier,” he told him, voice quiet and steady, “I’ve told you enough times that you aren’t here for your opinions. Now are you going to start toeing the line around here, or are things about to get messy?”

 

“Messier...” BA grumbled.

 

“Sorry?” Face’s eyes were flashing.

 

“Nothin’.”

 

“That’s ‘Nothing, sir,’” Face ground out. 

 

“Nothing, sir!” BA barked, snapping to attention and saluting smartly.

 

Face held his glare for almost thirty seconds before whispering, “Don’t push your luck, here, Bosco. You think I won’t do it? You’ll be surprised. You really want to be out on your ass before you’ve been back in a year?” Face shook his head, “What kind of way is that to pay back the boss?”

 

At last BA dropped his eyes from Face’s and the moment dragged on even longer until Face shook his head, snapping himself out of the moment with a sigh. “Right, corporal,” he instructed, voice business like again, “I’d quite like some smoke grenades available for tonight. Go through the gear and see if you can find any. In fact, do a full inventory of everything we’ve got, and get it done quick. Clear?”

 

BA looked up, the anger still evident in his face, but his expression as bland as he could make it, “Yes, sir!” he snapped, the formality a needle in Face’s nerves.

 

But Face could play this game too. He let rip with a shit eating grin and stepped back with a “Dismissed, soldier,” before turning on his heel and stalking off.

 

________________________

 

Face found the afternoon wearisome in the most draining of ways. Just as the pressure to perform was at its strongest, just when any failings on his part meant would mean not getting Hannibal back at all, he suddenly had a sullen, glaring corporal on his hands. Face tried his best to ignore BA, there was nothing else he could do to make the big guy step up to the mark here, he only hoped that when push came to shove all that professionalism that Face _knew_ he had would come to the fore.

 

Murdock had been pale and jittery all afternoon as well, and also _so_ obviously not speaking to BA. Add onto that Sasha and Anya who had taken to following him around _staring_ at him all day, and Face was just about at the end of his rope. He rubbed at his aching head as he went over the plan one more time whilst packing up, god, he needed Hannibal back. He needed him in every conceivable part of his life it was untrue. Without the boss he couldn’t cope with anything, his emotions, his subordinates, his job, even sleeping alone, shit, _nothing_. In fact, without the boss, that’s all he was, a great, useless, nothing...

 

“Face,” Sasha’s voice tugged him from his dark thoughts and he pulled a smile out for the kid, noticing that he got ‘Face’ now, instead of ‘dick-head’. “We,” Sasha motioned to Dimi and Foma who were standing with him, “want to come tonight. Help get your boss back.”

 

Face had half expected this and shook his head at the boys, watching as Sasha’s eyes took on an immediate defiant gleam, “Sorry, guys. We can’t have you along tonight, you know that.”

 

But Sasha wasn’t to be put off, “You helped us with Anya, we help you with your boss.”

 

“Sasha, buddy,” Face rested a hand on Sasha’s forearm, “You know it’s not like I don’t appreciate your offer and everything, it’s just,” he shrugged, “we’re a team, me and the guys, we work best on our own.”

 

A frown creased Sasha’s forehead but he nodded, he’d known all along that Face would never let them come, “And afterwards?” Sasha queried.

 

“Well, afterwards,” Face quickly glanced around to see if he could see Murdock or BA but the coast was clear, “everything happens just like I said it would.”

 

Another nod and a deeper frown from Sasha, “Unless you are killed tonight, of course.”

 

Face smiled at him, “No one is getting killed tonight, Sasha.”

 

Sasha looked far from convinced but Face shouldered his pack and called, “Come on you two, we’re out of here!”

 

___________________________

 

 _Smooth as silk..._ Face thought to himself, _so far this thing is running as smooth as silk!_ And that, inevitably, was the point when the whole thing went down the pan.

 

They’d got through the garden again no problems. Climbed the cedar tree without issue and skirted around the ledge, to the front this time, until they were right in front of the single circular window, tucked under the roof, right in the middle of the house. Face had jimmied it open and slid inside, finding himself two short metres away from the locked door to Hannibal’s attic room, he’d forced himself to focus, turned his back to the door to make sure that Murdock and BA could get in, when chaos down at the front gates drew all their eyes.

 

It was pitch black, almost one in the morning, and the noise of screaming kids was unsettling to say the least. Face stuck his head back out of the window just as BA paused with one leg in and one leg out and they both peered out into the darkness below but it was Murdock’s keen eyes that spotted the danger first.

 

“Oh, no, no, no, no, _no_!” he murmured, the tone of his voice chilling Face down to his bones, “It’s them damn kids, LT! What the hell do they think they’re doin’?!”

 

In a second it became obvious what they thought they were doing as they all started banging on the locked gates with sticks and metal pipes, screaming and shouting and drawing the armed guards away from the house and out along the driveway.

....

“Jesus Christ!” Face breathed, “They’re all gonna get killed! What the _fuck_ are they thinking?!”

 

A guard fired a couple of warning shots into the air and one of the kids screamed in fright as Face swore again. He looked over his shoulder at the door to Hannibal’s prison, a tiny, insignificant padlock all that stood between him and the boss and swore once more, very loudly as he swung his leg back through the window and out onto the ledge, that single act of motion that very hardest, the most excruciatingly painful thing he had ever done in his whole life.

 

He grabbed onto the wooden frame and prepared to haul himself back out into the cold night air but a hand on his chest stopped him and he froze, looking up into BA’s face, but finding his expression unreadable in the darkness. “We got this LT,” the big guy whispered. “You don’t have to leave him. Me and the fool got this.”

 

Face still had one leg in and out of the building, his body as undecided as his mind, but then that big hand moved, reaching up to his shoulder and squeezing gently, not pushing or shoving and Face felt the warmth from those fingers seeping into his skin, “Do, what you gotta do, man,” BA whispered, and then he and Murdock turned and disappeared into the darkness.

 

 In a split second Face was back in the corridor. Stealth wasn’t needed now, not thanks to Sasha and his little gang, so he just drew his gun and blasted the lock off the door, all it needed then was a well placed _kick_ , the door flew open and Face was inside. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the thick black dark of the room but Face didn’t wait, he knew from his earlier visit where Hannibal would be, could hear some movement and fell to his knees hands reaching out into the blackness, “Hannibal?” He sounded like a lost child, knew he did, hated himself for sounding like that, but, _god_ he just needed this.

 

At last his grasping fingers found clothing and then cold, clammy skin and chains and Face just surged forward, knowing how inappropriate this was, knowing they should get up and get going, but the need for Hannibal was only intensifying.

 

“Oh, kid...” and those words made him and broke him all at the same time. He could read everything they said, how in despair Hannibal had been, how cold and hurt and _scared_ , how he’d been scared for himself and for Face and for the team, and how now that Face was here, he’d been given everything back again.

 

He squeezed hard, once, allowing himself just that, but feeling the solid cold of Hannibal’s body, the fevered heat in his forehead and his gut set in need for swift and brutal revenge.

 

“Good to see you, boss,” he whispered, forcing himself to pull away, his eyes finally adjusting to the dark of the room even as his hands found the chains and started to work at the locks.

 

“And you,” Face’s stomach twisted as he registered that exhausted tone to his voice, “What the hell you got going on out there? Sounds like recess...”

 

Face allowed himself a dark chuckle as the lock sprang open in his fingers, “Oh, believe me, you don’t want to know.” He peeled the chains from Hannibal’s wrists, feeling hot, scabbed skin under his fingers and his thirst for revenge doubled. “Can you walk though, boss? We need to get going, I can help you, hell, I’ll carry you if you want, but we need-” 

 

“Oh, how touching!” Face froze, icy fingers running down his neck as that voice sounded behind him. “As soon as I heard that debacle outside, I knew it had something to do with you, Smith! Don’t move, either of you.”

.....

Light spilling in from the open door meant that it was possible for the two men to see each other clearly for the first time since Face had kicked the door in, and their eyes met now, each trying to say something in the few seconds of silence, Face’s shoulder blades itching in anticipation of a bullet at any moment. Hannibal looked dreadful, his skin waxy and taut over his cheek bones, his eyes were glazed with fever and his lips were parched and dry. He’d obviously been on the end of more than a couple of beatings but it was the look in his eyes, the re-emergence of the desperation that Face had known was there earlier that cut Face to the quick. In a moment of utter clarity, Face suddenly realised that he had put that look there. Hannibal had relied on him to do this, to make this plan, to get them all safe, and Face had failed, turned his back to the door and switched his ears off when he knew he didn’t have anyone covering his ass.

 

And now Barsukov was back and he was going to kill Face and then kill the boss as well. He’d failed. That’s all he was, a spectacular failure.

 

Hannibal’s tired eyes were watching him, could see the turmoil in his expression and Face saw a little frown crease Hannibal’s brow as he wondered what was whipping through Face’s mind. At that moment Face knew then that this was the way it was going to end. That he had let Hannibal down, should _never_ have let Hannibal down, and he would give his life this night trying to put that right. He would not let this bastard kill his boss.

 

“Put your guns down soldier,” Barsukov whispered at Face. “Both of them, I know you have a hand gun somewhere as well.”

 

Face didn’t turn around but kept his eyes fixed on Hannibal’s the whole time he flipped his guns away, mind whirling around their predicament, twisting and turning like a cornered eel trying to find a way out.

 

“I’m so glad we have a friend to play with now, Colonel, don’t you? All those games we never got around to the last time, I’ve always regretted that.” Hannibal’s eyes turned even bleaker, “Have you ever heard your man scream? Well, you will get that chance tonight as I slowly take him apart in front of you, piece by piece until he is begging for death. I’m looking forward to this. You can suffer the slow, painful death of a friend just as I suffered poor Igor’s death.” Barsukov seemed to lose himself in the moment for a minute, but Face had barely even been listening, one final idea was fermenting in his mind, a possibility that might just get the boss out of here alive...

 

Snapping back into himself, Barsukov barked out, “You! Soldier! Move away from the Colonel, nice and slow, back off and then turn around to face me.”

 

This was it. Barsukov could not have played more into his hands here if he had tried to, Face held Hannibal’s eyes for one more second, trying to say everything he needed, before looking away, allowing that focus to, belatedly, slip into place and back up, slowly, slowly, just as Barsukov had ordered.

 

“Enough!” the Russian snapped, “Now turn so I can see your eyes, I suspect you are the same pretty little Lieutenant from the tracks aren’t you?”

 

Still Face was barely listening, he was calculating, working out every split second of timing, how crucial this all was, how vitally important for Hannibal it was that he got it right. He turned, slow and smooth, six feet away from Barsukov, nothing in his movements to alert the man that he was a danger, nothing at all, slow and smooth, slow and smooth, turning around, lifting his face, bland and neutral up to Barsukov, he saw the victory in the Russian’s face, saw him narrow his eyes at Face, wondering... saw those cold, killer’s eyes flick back to Hannibal and then, like a panther, Face sprang. Knife flying from his left hand, aiming for that gun hand, the rest of his body a hard and heavy projectile, intent on taking Barsukov right back into the wall, using the wall as a weapon.

....

The partial success was more than he had really dared hope for. His aim with the knife was true, the so-sharp blade slicing across an exposed forearm, as it passed by, a starburst of blood covering Barsukov, the wall and Face at the same time. The gun was dropped in haste, but not before a single bullet blasted out into the room. Face felt the white hot agony as it flared in his belly, but he pushed it down. There was no time to think of gut shots here, of slow, agonising deaths, bleeding out in the back of a car while his team mates tried to rush him to an extraction point... No, he couldn’t think about any of that, he still needed to take this bastard down.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hannibal stagger to his feet, going for Face’s gun, but stumble and fall even as Face hit Barsukov with the force of a steam train. He knocked them both into the wall and managed a good, hard punch across the face before Barsukov’s knee, in a totally accidental reaction to the punch, flew up into Face’s stomach, making him scream in pain, magnesium stars flashing across his vision. He knew he was in trouble, knew that now Barsukov realised he was compromised it was all over, and so dived full length for the fallen gun, feeling that fire in his belly once more, but knowing it was this or die, and his fingers found the handle, he rolled onto his back, already aiming, finger already on the trigger to find Barsukov poised over him with the knife in his left hand and murder on his face.

 

They both froze in stalemate, “Drop it,” Face breathed, “You know I can shoot you before you even ready that thing.”

 

Barsukov smiled a cold smile at him, “Maybe, but I will still let it fly. It will still gut you.”

 

Face smiled back, “But then you will be dead,” he whispered, “and what happens to me after that? I really don't give a fuck.”

 

Barsukov faltered at the cold delivery of that line, and Face took his chance, two shots, one in a shoulder, one in a leg. He wasn’t out to kill the bastard really, no, had something _much_ better up his sleeve than that. Supposing he still had the chance to carry that out of course...

 

The Russian collapsed in a heap on the floor and Face quickly knocked him out with couple of rabbit punches. The knife had come his way, but only glanced his shoulder as it passed, cut by his favourite knife, he thought as he crawled over to Hannibal, how much did that suck? 

 

The boss was sprawled out across the floor on his stomach; Face ignored the pain in his own belly to quickly check the him over. He couldn’t see any serious injury, couldn’t see anything that would cause too much concern, figured that Hannibal had just tried to do too much too quickly, weak from hunger, dehydration and enforced inactivity.

 

He’d learned his lesson this time though, and while he collected up the weapons and locked Hannibal’s chains around Basukov’s wrists, he kept one ear on the door, concerned at the silence which had ominously fallen outside. Finally, he was ready to leave. Stubbornly refusing to look at his own wound, he gently hauled the boss up over his shoulder, silently seething at the sharp stench of human waste and slipped, silently, out of the door.

....

His progress was slow, he was unwilling to blast straight into a gun battle with Hannibal exposed like this, plus the extra weight he was carrying, the way he could feel the hot blood seeping through his clothes...

 

He reached the top of the staircase, and paused, wondering the best way to descend when he felt a weak tap on his back and he dropped to his knees, easing Hannibal back onto his feet and helping him to stand. “You okay?” he whispered, moving the boss to lean against the wall behind him, “We just need to get out of the house, and I’ve got a car waiting out back.”

 

Hannibal took a moment, his hand gripping Face’s arm tightly, finding his feet, obviously waiting for the world to stop spinning, “Yeah, kid, I’m fine,” his voice was so quiet, almost like a breath that Face frowned, holding onto him more securely, worried he was going to keel over again. Hannibal noticed Face’s concern and pulled himself up off the wall a bit, one hand reaching out to cup his boy’s face, his blue eyes, still a little glassy, reaching out to Face’s soul, “I’m _fine_ kid, thanks to you.” A thumb reached out and brushed over his cheek bone and Face couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch, closing his eyes and just for a moment letting himself believe that everything was going to be alright. “You found me...” Hannibal whispered and Face’s eyes flicked open at the emotion in his words, “I thought I was lost... You came for me.”

 

“Of course I came for you,” Face whispered in reply, “Hannibal, I... I would _never_ have stopped looking until I found you. Never. I was never going to let you go.”

 

The desperation and determination were clear in his voice and they tugged at Hannibal’s heart, his thumb stroked a little harder, trying to wipe away that all that pain hiding just beneath the surface, and he wondered what agonies Face had endured to be standing here right now.

 

The screech of an owl in the trees outside made them both jump and brought Face’s focus sharply back to the task at hand; he reached into the waistband of his combats, pulling out his hand gun and passing it over to his boss. Hannibal’s eyes slid into clear focus and he nodded, his voice sounding much stronger now, “Okay kid, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

Face squeezed Hannibal’s arm and turned back to the stairs, taking point, leading them down, all his senses sharpened, determined that he wouldn’t fail Hannibal again, not now when they were so, so close...

 

A noise ahead made him stop, Hannibal right behind him, hot breath gusting over his neck, and he readied his gun, leaning out ever so slightly, hands steady, but his pulse thumping loudly in his ears. He saw a dark shape up the corridor ahead of him, and nodded to the boss to wait, forcing himself into calmness, then spinning around, gun raised, pointing straight into Murdock’s face.

 

“Geez!” Face hissed as he quickly pulled his gun back, “Report, Captain?”

 

Murdock’s eyes flicked to Hannibal and his whole face lit up in a grin, he reached out, grabbing his colonel’s hand tightly in his own, welcoming him back, while quickly giving his report to Face, “All hostiles contained, LT, we managed to pick a couple of them off and the rest just threw down their guns, seems they were farm guys too...” both Face and Murdock frowned at that.

 

“The kids?” Face asked, hardly daring to hear the answer.

 

“All fine,” Murdock reported, “Or at least they will be, until BA gets hold of them...”

 

“And me...” Face muttered darkly. “Right, HM, we need to bug out. You take the boss and get straight to the car, BA and I will finish up here and meet you there. Okay?”

 

Murdock snapped off a lazy salute, “Sure thing, LT,” then he nodded at Hannibal, huge grin on his face, “You ready to get out of here, boss?”

 

“Am I ever...” Hannibal growled. He’d watched the interaction between Face and Murdock with interest, Face had never done that before, taken charge in front of Hannibal, and it stirred something deep inside the older man. He winced as he pushed off from the wall and squeezed Face’s arm as he passed by, “Keep safe, LT,” he murmured as he and Murdock slid away into the shadows.

 

__________________________

 

Twenty minutes later, Face and Sasha slowly made their way round to the back of the property to where the other three were waiting with the car.

 

Sasha, quiet and subdued after a reaming out from BA and then Face, kept on shooting surreptitious glances to the way that Face had one arm pressed against his stomach, and the way he winced every time he needed to twist or bend.

 

BA was already in the driver’s seat, more than eager to get going and just get the hell out of Russia for good, Hannibal was sitting sideways on one of the back seats, long legs stretching out into the mud, bottle of water grasped in his filthy fingers talking quietly to Murdock who was leaning on the open car door. They turned as Face emerged from the shadows, Sasha in tow, and Sasha narrowed his eyes at the way that Face pulled himself up straighter, forced himself to walk faster.

 

Face moved straight to BA and gave him the GPS unit, “Right, I’ve called in the extraction, ETA is 0500, here’s the coordinates.”

 

BA nodded and took the items from Face’s hands, looking at them carefully, “No problem, LT,” he replied, his voice quiet in the night, “it’s about 60 miles from here, should give us loads of time as long as the roads are okay.”

 

“The roads are fine,” Sasha called from behind them, “You will make it in plenty of time.” He looked at Hannibal and pointed, turning back to Face as he spoke, “So, this your leader, then?”

 

Face smiled and nodded and Sasha walked up to Hannibal and stuck his hand out, “Pleased to meet you, sir,” he said, not a trace of humour anywhere on his face.

 

“How come he gets ‘sir’, and I got ‘dick-head’?” Face muttered under his breath as he made his way around the car to stand with Murdock and Sasha.

 

Murdock grinned at him as Hannibal extended his own hand and shook Sasha’s firmly. “Pleased to meet you too, young man,” he answered gravely, “and can I just thank you, and all your friends, for the way you have helped my team out here in the last few days.”

 

Sasha bristled, and looked at Hannibal through narrowed eyes, trying to see if he was being teased, but all he saw was genuine appreciation, “You are welcome,” he eventually responded, “but those two said I should have stayed away.”

 

Hannibal appeared to consider this for a moment before nodding, “Well, they are probably right, they were just trying to keep you all safe, but thank you, anyway. You were very brave.”

 

Sasha nodded in return, “Well, Face saved my sister, we had to help him get his boss back. He’s no good at being a leader on his own.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes snapped to Face and the way he shifted awkwardly at Sasha’s words. “Really?” he said thoughtfully, “It seems as though you and I have quite a bit of catching up to do, Face.”

 

Face shifted again and Murdock took pity on him, “Come on Sasha,” the pilot said, draping a hand around the boy’s back, “Let’s go and find the rest of your gang of reprobates, we need to say our farewells.”

 

BA pulled himself out of the car as well, following after them, as Sasha could be heard asking, “What’s a repro..., what was that word?”

 

Turning his eyes from the three retreating figures, Hannibal turned to watch Face. He was tense, obviously on edge even though the immediate threat to them all had been neutralised, for now. He wouldn’t look Hannibal in the eye, preferring to lean against the side of the car facing the same way, and was fidgeting with his gun, long fingers busy, always busy.

 

“Face,” Hannibal’s soft voice chipped into his thoughts, and he knew the boss would wait for him, wait until he turned his head and made eye contact. He looked up from under his lashes. “What’s going on, kid?”

 

“Nothing, boss!” he almost kicked himself, too loud, too bright, he needed to have been smarter than that if he was going to fool Hannibal.

 

With a sigh, Hannibal pulled himself to his feet and turned to stand in front of Face, filling his vision, trapping him against the car. A steady hand reached out and took hold of his chin, lifting it up, forcing their eyes to lock, “You know you don’t fool me,” Hannibal told him gently, “Now come on Face, what’s going on here?”

 

For just a moment, Face considered toughing it out, trying to brazen his way out of the situation, stick with his lie, but really what was the point? He sighed and forced himself to hold Hannibal’s gaze, “I’m not coming back with you, boss, not tonight.”

 

Hannibal was shocked, Face could see that and he felt bad, it took a lot to shock the boss, but his voice was steady still as he asked, “Why not?”

 

“Those kids, Hannibal,” the plea to understand was there in his voice, “How can I just walk out on them now? How can I leave them in the mess they are in?”

 

For a few minutes Hannibal didn’t speak and Face felt himself starting to squirm under that intense blue stare, “I know you better than any person alive or dead,” he eventually replied, a hand reaching out to hold Face’s arm. “And you telling me that you want to stay out here and try and fix it for these kids, then, yes, I get that. I more than get that, that’s _you_ , kid. But...” he shook his head, “That’s not the problem here,” he narrowed his eyes and Face started to feel uncomfortably like specimen in a Petri dish. “Something is bothering you. Something’s changed...”

 

Face looked away, feeling himself flush. He was so damn obvious. The boss could see it in him now, the depths he’d sunk to to get the job done, the decisions he’d made, the lives he’d ended... They’d all tainted him and Hannibal could see it, could _smell_ the stench of his choices so, so easily. Shame chewed him up from the inside out. How could he disappoint this man like that? The only man who had ever believed in him, who ever thought there was more to him than a quick forced blow job on his knees...

 

“Face...?”

 

He flicked his eyes back to the worry and concern and felt a surge of self loathing wash up within him. He couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t stain Hannibal’s pureness with his filth. He pushed off from the side of the car, trying to shove away from that blue stare that was piercing right through his heart but Hannibal had anticipated him, already had a hand up, shoving at Face’s stomach, pushing him back into the car.

 

Face couldn’t stop the way his body clenched up in hot agony, and the groan that ripped from his lips at that pressure right on top of his bullet wound. He curled up on himself, knees sagging and collapsed onto the back seats, gritting his teeth at the flaring pain.

 

Taking one look at the blood on his hand from Face’s clothes, Hannibal dropped to his knees in the doorway of the car, grabbing at Face’s arms, trying to get him to unroll, to open up physically if not emotionally. “Jesus, Face, why don’t you _ever_ tell anyone when you’re injured?!” He shook his head in frustration, “You wanted us to leave you out here, on your own, when you were hurt?”

 

“Why do you think I didn’t say anything?” Face hissed through clenched teeth, allowing Hannibal to unwrap his arms, peel his jumper away, lift up his vest and he bit back a moan as his clothes pulled at the sticky congealing blood that stretched from one side of his stomach to the other. “It’s just a scratch,” he murmured as he felt cool fingers probing the red raw edges of skin, “I thought it was something more, but it’s just a scratch.”

 

“It’s more than a scratch, Lieutenant!” Face closed his eyes at the anger in that voice, “It’s carved a trough out of you all the way across!” The first aid kit was already out on the back seat from where Murdock had been cleaning Hannibal up a little, and the colonel grabbed the antiseptic spray now, not even bothering to warn Face of the impending burning as he sprayed liberal amounts of the stuff all across his stomach.

 

The reawakening of the pain was making Face feel sick, so he laid back on the seats of the car, his arm across his eyes and let Hannibal treat him, feeling the rough dabbing of the wipes cleaning him up, then the tugging of steri-strips being placed over the deepest parts of the cut, tugging the raw skin back together, then, blissfully, the antiseptic cream with local anaesthetic, cooling and then numbing the fire, and finally the top dressing being taped into place across his skin, those fingers that knew him so well, smoothing and skimming over his burning flesh.

 

Hannibal stopped, and Face gave him a moment before removing the arm from over his eyes and looking up, taking the offered hand and letting the boss haul him back into a sitting position. He looked up, past where the boss as standing with folded arms looking down at him, into three pairs of accusing eyes, and looked down again. The sooner the others left the better as far as he was concerned.

 

“Hey, dick-head,” Face looked back at Sasha, wondering what he’d done to incur the kid’s anger this time, “are we ready to go yet or what?”

 

Face risked a glance at Hannibal’s blank face and then hauled himself to his feet, “Sure, Sasha, no time like the present, eh?”

 

He stepped around Hannibal and walked to the boy’s side, tugging his clothes back into place as he did so.

 

“Hang on,” Murdock stepped forward and took hold of his arm, “Go? Go where, Face?”

 

Face took a deep breath and fixed Murdock with a bright smile, “I’m gonna stay on here with Sasha and the kids for a few days, bud,” he answered. “See if I can sort them out with somewhere a little better to stay.”

 

Murdock looked at him and then over at Hannibal’s inscrutable expression and then back at Face, “You sure that’s a good idea, Face?” he asked, ever mindful of Sasha standing listening, “I mean, when you are injured and all?”

 

Face let out a long breath, “It’s just a scratch, Murdock...!”

 

There was a long pause before Murdock turned back to Hannibal, “Boss?”

 

No one moved. Face held his breath, already wondering what he should do when Hannibal told him he couldn’t stay, if Hannibal _ordered_ him to return with them...

 

But to his surprise, the boss just nodded and walked over to the car, “It’s just a scratch, captain. Let him do what he needs to do, he’ll be back in a few days.”

 

Cold fingers of shock clenched Face’s stomach and he narrowed his eyes at Hannibal, _that_ he had not expected while Murdock looked from Hannibal to Face and back again incredulously, “But, boss!” he sputtered, “we...”

 

“No buts!” Hannibal snapped folding himself into the back of the car, “Get your stuff into the boot, captain, we have a plane to catch.”

 

Murdock looked back over at Face, confusion etched into his expression, then sighed and wandered morosely over to a little stack of weapons and ammo that was still piled up by the chain link fence, Face meanwhile stood stock still, staring at the side of Hannibal’s head in the car as he cleared away the mess left from the medical kit. BA started the car’s engine and Face found his feet taking him to the still open car door on their own violation. “Boss...” he whispered, embarrassed that it came out sounding like a plea.

 

“What?” Hannibal snapped looking round at him.

 

Face froze at the expression on the boss’ face. Hurt, disappointment, anger, it was all there. _He suspects me..._ Face thought in horror and took a step back.    

 

Hannibal’s expression darkened even further as Face stepped back from him and he turned away to watch Murdock sliding into the front of the car.

 

“Boss...” Face tried again, not even sure what he was asking for, for Hannibal to fight for him? For the boss to put his foot down and _own_ him? Anything really, he thought, anything would be better than this cold indifference as he was just left behind, never mind that it was what he had _wanted_ , exactly what he’d asked the boss to do. His hand reached out for the door just as Hannibal snatched it away from his fingers, slamming it shut, putting a metal and glass barrier up alongside the emotional ones.   

 

Murdock’s head stuck out of the window, looking back at Face in concern. “Come back with us, buddy!” he implored, “And as soon as the boss is feeling better we can put some leave in and  _all_ come out here to help the kids!”

 

Face didn’t even get chance to reply, he could hear Hannibal’s voice, etched in sorrow, through Murdock’s open window, “He needs to get some things straight in his head, HM, before he can come back with me. It’s best if we let him do this his own way.”

 

Face opened his mouth to say something, but no words came into his head. His hand was still reaching out for the car door when BA pressed the gas and they surged forward, out of his reach. He took a step forward, feeling the bond between him and Hannibal stretching like a huge elastic band. The boss was looking back at him through the rear view window and Face met his eyes, just as Hannibal looked away. He could almost hear the sharp ‘snap’ of elastic...

 

And within five minutes the sound of the car’s engine had died away as the team headed off to meet their extraction team, but Face was still standing staring up the road after them.

 

“So,” Sasha said walking to Face’s side and looking up at him, “that’s why you didn’t tell them you were hurt, you thought they would make you go back with them?”

 

Face let out a long breath and turned away, “They would never have done that, kiddo,” he answered, laying a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get the others and get going. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

 

He reached down to pat the two envelopes in the pockets of his combats, and allowed himself a grim smile; he just had one call to make before they left Magadan.


	2. Part Two

Murdock started shoving empty take out boxes into a carrier bag and throwing the used cutlery into the dishwasher in Hannibal and Face’s tiny galley kitchen. It was good to be back, good to see the boss looking far more human now he had some antibiotics in his system, but the atmosphere between him and BA, no, not good, not good at all.

 

He was also kicking himself for not staying behind in Russia to help Face out. It had all been so rushed, all come as such a surprise, it was only when they were in their silent car, thirty miles out of Magadan before that thought had even occurred to him, and by then it was far too late.

 

He heard a noise behind him and turned, finding BA standing in the doorway, stack of empty cans in his arms and a sheepish expression on his face. “You want some help here?” Murdock shook his head tersely, lips pressed together in a thin line and turned back to the mess. “Boss is in bed,” BA offered awkwardly, “Says we can crash here if we want...”

 

“I’ll take the couch,” Murdock snapped, using a piece of kitchen paper to wipe the splashed curry sauce off the worktops.

 

BA sighed and dumped the cans in the recycling box, leaning up against the door frame with his arms folded, “How long you gonna be mad at me for, Murdock?” he asked quietly, “It’s not my fault that fool stayed behind.”

 

Murdock turned on him, “That’s enough, Bosco! Don’t you think you done enough damage already? Accusing him of hurting Anya? Pushing him all the time ‘til he can’t take you anymore? What if he never comes back?”

 

BA rolled his eyes dramatically, “Yeah, as if that would ever happen! What is he without the boss? He’s like a leech, Murdock, sucking that guy dry! Goddamn parasite!”

 

The silence in the kitchen was heavy, “You really think that?” Murdock asked slowly and BA nodded. The anger all seemed to drain out of Murdock in one go, “Then you are a fool yourself BA, and I pity _you_!” They stared at each other as BA’s forehead pulled into a frown. “Don’t you see it?” Murdock took a step forward, “They _love_ each other, Bosco! Love! Real, honest to god, simple, love! Yes, Hannibal makes Face calmer and stronger, _better_ even, but don’t you see how that works both ways? What Face does for the boss?”

 

BA frowned at him, “He does nothing for the boss, ‘cept take advantage of him! And one o’ these days he’s gonna make a move on a general or something and where’s that gonna leave the boss? Pining over some damn fool whore that was never good enough for him in the first place!”

 

“You’re wrong,” Murdock shook his head vehemently, “Face loves Hannibal with everything he has, he would never do anything like that to hurt him.”

 

BA stepped forward, “No, fool, _you’re_ wrong! You musta heard what everyone says about him? All his sleeping around, shagging anything that moves, no respect for anyone?” Murdock frowned, “You think that’s all lies? Well, you know the first time I met Face? The boss damn well _shot_ me so we could pull his worthless hide outta the mess he’d got himself in by _sleeping_ with Tuco’s wife! You know that, crazy? And then, even while we was still trying to get away from them, what was he doing? Making out with her in the back of my van - _right in front of the boss!_ You still think he loves him? Nah, he’s just  _using_  him, Murdock, just to get what he wants! And Hannibal? He’s the best man I ever met. The faith he showed me, getting me back in the Rangers, turning my life round?” He shook his head slowly, “He deserves more than that sack of shit, tha’s for sure!”

 

“All that means nothing,” Murdock answered quietly, “All them rumours about Face? Lies, BA, lies that Face encourages ‘cause it keeps eyes off him and the boss! Lies that have suckered you! And I admit that I have no idea what crazy plan the two of them had cooked up to get rid of Tuco, but I do know that they love each other. It’s the real thing, Bosco, and Face needs the boss just as much as the boss needs him. You need to get off his back, you need to open your eyes and you need to _see_ Face for what he really is, don't let him fool you with one of those false fronts he uses on other people!”

 

BA rubbed his hands over his face. He was tired of this argument, he was tired of all this tension and he was tired of Face spoiling everything for him when maybe things were turning into something better for once.

 

A cool hand on his arm brought his eyes up and he found Murdock right in front of him, his eyes beseeching, “I know you see it sometimes, big guy, don’t you? When Face thought he had to leave the boss behind in that attic to go and help the kids, you saw it then? How much it cost him? And you sent him back, yeah?” BA nodded slowly remembering the look of agony on the LT’s face that had cut him to the core. “He feels it, BA, he’s not a whore or a charlatan and he’s not sleeping his way up the ranks. He loves the boss, he really does, you need to see it...”

 

It was late, BA was exhausted and this whole sorry saga needed putting to bed, “Okay,” he whispered, “As soon as he gets back I’ll try. Just for you, I’ll try and see it different,” and Murdock’s answering smile was all the payment he needed.

 

________________________________

 

Hannibal let out a long sigh and tried to will himself to relax. He was back in his own bed, he was clean and warm and well fed. His injuries were superficial and the medics back at base had patched him up and sent him home. He had everything he needed right? Wanted for nothing. So, why couldn’t he sleep? Why was he wound as tight as a watch spring? He looked over at the huge empty space in the bed beside him and knew exactly why.  

 

The mission had been an unmitigated disaster. Not only had they failed to find get the information as to who had reopened the sale of illegal weapons into the US from Russia, but then Hannibal had walked straight into a plan for revenge cooked up by one of the most unstable minds in modern day Russia, and now they had returned home without Face.

 

Russ had come to the medical centre to see Hannibal as soon as they had landed, and to say he was upset was putting it mildly. Seems that the team had not been so good at keeping in touch after Hannibal had been taken, so Russ had had no idea what the hell had been going on. He was also none too thrilled that the arms leak hadn’t been plugged either, and then add to that the fact that Face had remained behind after the end of the mission and the two men had had rather a few harsh words. In the end Hannibal had talked him round, had persuaded him not to list Face as AWOL and had convinced him that the long silence from the team had been due to technical difficulties and not down to the fact that Face knew damn well if he reported in what had happened to Hannibal he would have been ordered straight home and forced to leave the boss behind. Hannibal knew that Face would never, ever have followed that order.

 

But, and here was another thing that was nagging at Hannibal, he and the team had left without Face. Yes, he knew that the circumstances were different, that Face had been free to make his own choices, but still, they’d left him in an unstable country with six minors in his care and no one to watch his back. So what the hell was all that about?

 

Hannibal lifted his arm and idly stroked the scabbed flesh around his wrists as he wondered, not for the first time, just what the hell had gone on with the team while he’d been in Barsukov’s care. He’d hardly seen Face and BA pass two sentences together since he’d been released, but the tension between them was obvious, maybe not quite as obvious as the downright hostility that was floating around between Murdock and BA, but there none the less. And something was off with Face, very off and Hannibal had an uncomfortable thought that he knew exactly what that ‘something’ was. His face flushed in humiliation as he thought about how, _distant_ Face had been since he’d smashed down the door of that damn attic. He was trying to hide something from Hannibal, that much was obvious, and there was only one thought that Hannibal could think he would go to all the effort of keeping secret... And if he was right, then it was no surprise that Face couldn’t stand being with him just now.

 

When it came down to it, _that’s_ why Hannibal had left him behind. If he had something on his mind, something he needed to sort out, then, as much as it pained him to do it, Hannibal would let him have that time. Anything was better than having Face keep him at arm’s length, not meet his eyes, think those thoughts about him... He shook his head, trying to clear the rising panic from his thoughts. He shouldn’t have left Face alone like that. What if the kid was injured, captured, fell ill? And what if... Hannibal swallowed hard... what if he just decided not to come home at all...

 

He doubted whether Face would ever, truly understand the hold he had over his CO, the importance he held in his life. Whatever Face needed, wanted, desired... Hannibal would move heaven and earth to give him. It may not be the healthiest basis for a relationship, but Face was Hannibal’s entire world; without him he was nothing. And the crazy thing was, the kid just didn’t get that, was still completely oblivious about his place in Hannibal’s life. Utterly crazy.

 

With a long sigh, Hannibal flicked the bedside lamp off and lay back, forcing his eyes to close. This was getting him nowhere, he needed to sleep, he needed to get life back on an even keel with his fledgling team. _When_ Face got back, he would talk to the kid. He would be calm and rational and not let his heart rule his head. Face would come back and they would sort this whole mess out, it would only be a couple of days after all.

 

________________________

 

It was, in fact, eleven very long days before Face finally pulled his hire car up in front of the house he and Hannibal shared back in the states. He was absolutely exhausted. In the last forty hours he had flown from Vladivostok into Seoul, Seoul to JFK and finally JFK into Atlanta before having to drive the one and a half hours it took to get home. The only saving grace was that it was just after 11pm when he let himself in through the front door, and that meant he could finally just go to bed and stand some chance of being able to get his body clock back in synch.    

 

The hallway was in darkness and he frowned, wondering if Hannibal was out. He’d not told anyone he was on his way back; in fact he hadn’t spoken to them at all after they’d driven off in Magadan. Partly it was because he was simply hiding from them, wanting to conceal this new person he’d become and the things that that person did, but partly it was because he was just too damn busy.

 

They’d left Magadan an hour after Hannibal. It hadn’t taken long for the kids to pack up the meagre possessions they had and took Face even less time to drop the incriminating contents of Barsukov’s safe in at the local _Militsya_. Then they needed to do what Face had considered the most dangerous part of the journey, and travel back to the docks to pick up the cargo ship that was going to take them to Vladivostok. Fortunately the _Orion_ had long gone, but that had not stopped Anya from shaking with fright and clinging onto Face again for at least the first twelve hours of the three day journey.

 

The journey had been hard. With the exception of Anya, the children thought they were on a three day holiday cruise and Face had his work well and truly cut out for him trying to keep them all safe on the long, long sailing. Needless to say, sleep was a little known luxury for him. They had eventually arrived in Vladivostok and, too exhausted to do anything apart from check them into a hotel, Face eventually collapsed in much needed sleep. Fortunately, the cable television in the bedrooms acted as a passable substitute childminder which meant Face could have just enough sleep to enable him to function as a human once more.

 

Then he was up and off again, using the hotel’s internet suite to sort out some loose ties concerning Barsukov, and finding that one special place that he’d heard rumours of in Magadan, the one place he had dragged six street kids fifteen hundred miles to find.

 

He’d worked hard. Eight solid days of very little sleep, wheeling and dealing, investing Barsukov’s ill gotten gains, charming the pants off Russian charity workers, setting up water tight trust funds, long distance calls back to LA, bribing Russian officials left right and centre, talking and talking to Sasha, until it was all sorted. Eventually, just as the sun set on the eighth day, Face delivered a faxed document from Father Thomas Hall of the Angel Guardian’s orphanage, LA, newly appointed legal guardian of Sasha and Anya Osokin, Foma and Ilia Panin, Dimi Grechko and Georgiy Tsaplin, signing their immediate care over to the ‘ _Raduga Derevnya’_ (Rainbow Village) Orphanage, Vladivostok. The younger children were ecstatic at the thought of their new home with cable television (Dimi), a playground (Georgiy), football pitch (Ilia), Playstation (Foma) and pet donkey (Anya). While Sasha just looked relieved to not have the pressure of all those lives on his shoulders anymore.

 

Just as Face was preparing to leave on the morning of the ninth day, he and Sasha had sat up on the hill looking down at the rambling spread of buildings that made up _Raduga Derevnya_ below them, and the sea spreading out into the distance, all the way to the US, in front of them.

 

“I still can’t understand why you wouldn’t be our guardian...” Sasha had muttered mutinously as Face yanked up handfuls of grass with his fingers.

 

Face sighed, “I told you kid, I’m a soldier, I disappear for long stretches, you’d never be able to get to me in a hurry.” Sasha remained stubbornly silent. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be in touch with you though. Doesn’t mean you can’t ever be in touch with me. But Father Thomas is a good guy, and he’s right at the end of a phone for you whenever you want. You ever decide you don’t want to be here anymore, then he’ll get in touch with me and we’ll sort it out. I promised you that.”

 

Silence fell again as Face continued to worry the grass and Sasha continued to scowl.

 

“It looks good though, so far, yeah?” the apprehension in Face’s voice was obvious to anyone who knew him, and Sasha let out a sigh as he relented a little.    

 

“Yeah, Face, it looks good.” Face leaned forward a little to look at the boy’s expression and Sasha allowed himself to smile. “Really good. Now stop staring!”

 

With a relieved smile Face leaned back and pulled a long grass stalk into his mouth as he rested on his elbows gazing at the distant horizon, wondering what it would have been like if Sasha and the others had decided they wanted to come into the US with him after all. Wondering if he would have been able to pull it off, wondering just how much he would have given up to make life good for them. Wondering if he could ever have managed it...

 

“You going now?” Sasha had eventually asked, the tension clear in his voice.

 

Face had taken the grass from his mouth and sat up, twisting his body to look right into Sasha’s eyes, “Five minutes... need to get to the airport.”

 

Sasha had nodded but not looked away, “You seeing the others?”

 

Face shook his head, smiling sadly, “No, buddy, I’m not that good at goodbyes, really.”

 

“But you came to see me.”

 

Face’s voice was low and intense, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 

A long, silent, moment passed before Sasha cracked a half smile at him, “I’m fine now, and I will be great. This is so much better than anything we’ve had before.” Face nodded thoughtfully at him and eventually Sasha’s smile bloomed into something bigger and more honest, “And anyway – I’m rich right? How can things not get better?”

 

Face laughed as he climbed to his feet, “You’re not rich yet, Sasha, eighteen is a long way off, and Father Thomas won’t let you spend all that money on loose women and fast cars even when you are old enough.”

 

Sasha’s laugh joined his own as the boy scrambled to his feet to stand at Face’s side, both still looking out at the sea.

 

Once again, silence fell, and Face tried to swallow around the sudden tightness of his throat. It was absolutely true what he had said to Sasha; he wasn’t that good at goodbyes at all, despite all the practise he’d had... He took a deep breath and steeled himself, turning to Sasha and extending his hand, “Well, kid, this is it then, time for me to head off.”

 

Sasha’s serious grey eyes dropped to the extended hand and he stared at it for so long, that Face began to pull back, heat staining his cheeks and his words jammed tight in his throat. It was at that point Sasha moved, throwing himself at Face, reaching up to wrap his arms tightly around his neck, pressing a quick firm, kiss to Face’s stubbled cheek, before, just as suddenly, wrenching away and disappearing into the trees at a jog.

 

Face stood, starring after him, his vision strangely blurred until he heard the beeping of his taxi’s horn down in the parking lot below him.

 

_________________

 

Dropping his kit bag at the door, Face let himself sag against the wall, thoughts of that final meeting with Sasha sapping the last of his strength, but almost leaping out of his skin as the door from the kitchen swung open, bathing him in a triangle of warm orange light.

 

He squinted and threw an arm up to shield his eyes, just as BA killed the light and grumbled a quiet apology, “Hey, sorry, man, I never heard you come in.”

 

Face just nodded and dropped his arm again; eyes flicking to the two plates of bacon sandwiches piled one on top of each other in one of BA’s huge hands.

 

An awkward silence fell as BA shifted uncomfortably in the doorway and Face tried to dredge up enough strength to haul himself into the shower.

 

“What you doing here?” he eventually asked, just as BA said, “You get them kids sorted?”

 

The awkwardness just seemed to intensify and Face wondered if this was part of this new person that he had become, all this social ineptitude. “Yeah, sorted,” he answered, quietly, hoping to god it was true.

 

BA nodded and remembered Face’s question, “Good. Well, me and crazy been staying here, keeping the boss company you know, just ‘til you got back.”

 

This time Face nodded as he pulled himself up off the wall and turned for the stairs, well, that made sense.

 

“Hey,” BA’s quiet voice pulled him back and Face stopped on the bottom step, turning slightly to look at the corporal over his shoulder. “I was wrong, man,” BA’s voice was rough, “For what I said on that op, for the way I acted.”

 

Letting out a long breath Face turned back up the stairs, he really didn’t have the energy for this at all now and wondered if it had been Murdock or Hannibal who had busted BA’s chops over his behaviour towards Face. “Okay,” he said simply and started hauling his aching muscles up the steps, almost feeling the heat of his impending shower on his shoulder blades.

 

He heard the step of BA following him, “Face...” but he kept on walking, straight into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him and sliding the bolt into place.

 

______________________

 

In ten minutes he was showered and shaved and had cleaned his teeth about four times and was standing on the narrow landing, torn between going into the room he had shared almost every single night in this house with Hannibal, or slipping into the small box room he kept up both for the sake of appearance as well as to give him somewhere to dump all his mess without annoying the boss. After hesitating for several long minutes, he turned with a sigh and finally slipped into Hannibal’s room.

 

Standing in the doorway, he could hear the steady, soft breathing that told him Hannibal was sleeping and he almost turned and walked away. The need within him for comfort, for something familiar, for the chance to slip into an old routine was just too powerful though, and slipping the damp towel from around his waist he silently padded across the carpet and slid under the duvet, pushing himself across the smooth sheet until he was pressed right up against Hannibal’s back and that solid, reassuring warmth.

 

For a moment, he just lay there, soaking up all that warmth and comfort, until Hannibal shifted, a long breath out announcing that he was surfacing from his slumber and Face tensed, wondering how this was going to play out.

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Hannibal’s voice was thick with sleep, “Why didn’t you say you were home tonight? I’d have waited up for you.”

 

Face couldn’t answer, didn’t really have an answer he was comfortable with for himself, never mind for the boss, but he was saved from that problem by Hannibal turning around to lie on his side, long body crushed right up against Face’s in the cosy nest of the bed, searching out his mouth in the darkness. Letting himself be found, Face let go, just for a moment, allowing himself to float off into the peaceful oblivion of the boss’ kiss, before he pulled back, dropping his mouth to Hannibal’s collar bone to disguise the movement, fingers already reaching down between them. “I need you, boss,” was all he said, finding Hannibal already hard against his leg and stroking, squeezing, tempting his love to take him.

 

Hannibal moaned and lay on his back, trying to pull Face on top of him, but the lieutenant had other ideas, keeping back out of the way, reaching under the pillow for the lube that was always kept there and warming it in his hands.

 

Suddenly, the light flicked on and Face froze in the act of squeezing the thick clear liquid into his palm to find Hannibal’s intense and suddenly wide awake eyes right in his face.

 

“What’s going on, Face?” he asked, the tone of voice that one that Face always found so hard to bullshit.

 

“Nothing!” he tried anyway, “I just got back, had a shit awful journey, haven’t been with you in weeks... Is it wrong that I want you? I thought you might want me back...” he added, throwing a little pout into the mix for good measure.

 

He tried to pull back but Hannibal’s fingers were on his chin holding him still, holding his eyes up so that the boss could study them carefully, “You know I always want you,” Hannibal soothed him, “But don’t try to scam me, Templeton, I know you, and I know when there is something wrong.” Face forced himself to relax, wiped his features blank and held Hannibal’s stare. “Everything go okay with the kids?” he asked and Face just nodded, unsure how much he could get away with saying at the moment. Hannibal watched him a while longer before pitching into his softest, most beguiling voice. “So, what is it, Face? Come on kid, I know when you aren’t happy, tell me what’s bothering you, you know we can fix it together.”

 

Face jerked his head away and carefully rubbed the lube round and round in this palm, warming it thoroughly as he thought. It was true, ever since he’d met Hannibal, every problem he’d had, and there had been plenty, the boss had helped him to fix. They’d been a team, worked together, and Hannibal had been proud of him and all that he’d achieved. But this, no, this was different. How could they work together when the problem this time was _him_? The choices _he’d_ made? The person _he_ had become?

 

He reached out with his warm slick hands and stroked Hannibal’s length with both palms, listening to Hannibal’s hiss of surprise. “Not now, boss,” he’d whispered, praying, just for once that the stubborn old git would let it go, “I need _this_. I need _you_. Please John. Just, please _please_ , let me have this moment...”

 

The use of Hannibal’s name was a low blow, he knew that, but then, that’s the type of depths he stooped to all the time these days, and it certainly had the desired effect. Hannibal lay back in his pillows, his eyes hooded as Face stroked him, one hand rolling his sack, knowing from years and years of experience exactly what was guaranteed to get the boss going. Face leaned over, dropping kisses across Hannibal’s chest and reached out to flick the lamp off again, moving his kisses to the boss’ mouth as he anticipated the question that action would provoke.

 

Face was starting to get impatient now, and turned everything he had up to full volume, desperate to get this going and over with as soon as possible. Within minutes the combined ministrations of his tongue, lips, teeth and fingers had Hannibal covered in a light sheen of sweat and reaching for Face, trying to manoeuvre him into position, trying to get him flat on his back underneath him. Face, however, was having none of it. He willingly slid under the boss, but turned onto his front, pulling his knees up underneath him, tipping his head into the pillows and he closed his eyes in disappointment as he felt Hannibal stop.

 

“Face...?”

 

Face knew what was coming. Knew that Hannibal was going to ask him, _why?_

 

It wasn’t like they never did it this way because they did, but it was always fast and dirty and hard and desperate and never in the bedroom and never when they needed to reconnect. Whenever that reconnection was needed they did it face to face, didn’t matter who was on top, as long as they could look at each other the whole time and kiss and touch and whisper. _That’s_ what times like this needed, but what Face and the person he had become _deserved_ well that was another matter entirely.

 

“Please...” Face begged, pushing himself back into Hannibal, “just do it, boss. I need this, I need to feel you like this. _Please_. Please.”

 

Hannibal felt his heart pounding in his throat as he tried to mull this chain of events over in his mind. _Why_ did Face want this, it wasn’t like him, he was usually the one who craved the emotional intensity of loving face-to-face. Why did he want Hannibal to take him from behind? The uncomfortable memory of Face finding him in that attic room back in Russia, chained up and sitting in his own filth reared its ugly head once more and Hannibal’s cheeks flushed at the humiliation he still felt. _Was_ this Face’s problem? Had seeing his CO in that sorry state changed his perception of Hannibal, had it ruined everything they had?

 

He sighed and Face felt his huge hands slide onto his hips, “Face...” there was pain in that voice, and Face cringed to know that he’d put it there, but there was no other way, “we need to talk.”

 

“Later,” Face whispered, trying without success to impale himself on the boss’ cock, “not now. Now I need you!”

 

All the time he was rotating his hips, Hannibal’s cock wedged in the curve of his ass, knowing damn well he was driving the boss crazy and with a defeated groan, Hannibal eventually pulled back and lined himself up, finding the tight ring of muscle and pushing straight through.

 

Face moaned as he felt that hot, familiar burn, and buried himself into the pillows beneath. It had been a long time since he’d been opened up like this, too many days, and Hannibal hadn’t prepared him at all, so it hurt, but that was just what he wanted. Hannibal was pulling out now, slowly, slowly and it wasn’t enough and too much for Face all in one go. With a deep grunt he shoved backwards, ramming Hannibal back inside him, all the way up to the root and biting back his yell of pain as he did so.

 

“Face!”

 

Hannibal wasn’t comfortable with this, Face knew. It wasn’t the time for fast and hard and desperate, but dear god, it was what Face needed so he kept up the back and forth movements of his hips, fucking himself hard if Hannibal wasn’t going to do it for him. But in that one word he had heard all he needed, heard how close Hannibal was to losing himself and so Face persevered, backwards and forwards, squeezing his muscles tight around that hot shaft within him, and with a long moan, Hannibal’s resolve slipped.

 

Those hands on his hips suddenly tightened convulsively and Hannibal surged forward, shoving himself in as deep and hard as he could, dragging a little cry of pain, silenced by the pillows, from Face’s lips, and Face went still and let himself be taken.

 

“Harder...” he muttered, turning his head so that the pillow no longer swallowed his words, “Harder, take me harder!” And Hannibal did. The sounds of flesh slapping together and the various grunts and moans were obscene in the quiet of the night, but Face didn’t care. He let Hannibal pound him into the bed, feeling his knees scraping on the sheets, his head banging into the headboard, the bruises starting up on his hips. And then Hannibal’s hand was on his cock, pulling out a frantic rhythm and Face closed his eyes letting it come, letting it wash over him, hoping against all hope that when it came it would wash him clean, would take all the dirt and poison away and he could go back to being as he was.

 

But after they’d both finished, Hannibal’s shout of his name still ringing in his ears, the healing bullet wound on his stomach pressed into the cooling pool of his own come, he realised with crushing disappointment, that he just felt exactly the same.

 

_______________________________

 

It was still dark when Hannibal woke up, but he knew instantly that the other side of the bed was empty. He wondered for just a moment if Face’s return hadn’t just been a figment of his over active imagination, but no, he quickly discounted that, not even he had sunk to depths that low, no matter how alone he’d felt. He wondered if the kid had just got up to go to the bathroom or something, but as he spread his hand out over the bed next to him, he found only cold, empty sheets, no sign of a warm body next to him for a while.

 

Without further thought, he kicked off the duvet and padded out onto the landing. The bathroom was empty and in darkness, door standing open, but the lingering fragrance of Face’s shower gel confirmed that Hannibal wasn’t losing his marbles just yet. He stood at the top of the stairs listening intently, knowing that sometimes when Face couldn’t sleep he would put the Xbox on, or watch a DVD or MTV or something, but downstairs seemed to be as quiet and dark as upstairs. That just left... Hannibal’s eyes landed on the tightly closed door of Face’s box room, the room he only ever slept in if they had had an argument.

 

With a heavy heart he walked over and quietly opened the door, his heart clenching as he took in Face’s figure, wrapped up in the duvet and jammed against the wall on the narrow single mattress, his still-packed bags piled at the end of the bed. He never even considered waking the kid up, he must be shattered after everything that had happened these last few weeks, but _whatever_ was going on with Face, and it was something that Hannibal didn’t like the feel of at all, first thing in the morning, he intended sorting it all out.  

 

The blinking numerals on his watch told him that it was 0440 and knew that further sleep would be an impossibility from this point onwards. He leant against the door frame for a moment, just watching Face sleep, loving the way his eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks, itching to stroke through his newly washed hair, thinking back to the way that the kid had wanted, no _begged_ , Hannibal to take him back in the bedroom... He shook his head and slipped out, heading for the stairs. Yeah... something was very wrong...

 

Creeping down the stairs, Hannibal glanced briefly at the tightly closed door of the spare room and almost tripped over Face’s kit bag, still leaning up against the door where he had dumped it when he came in and he suddenly froze. His mind went back to the bedroom and the bags stacked at the end of Face’s bed and he grabbed hold of the banister as he felt the world start to tip.

 

Again the memory of that dank, smelly attic room came back to haunt him. Those bags weren’t the ones that Face had brought back from Russia, no, not at all, those bags were freshly packed. Face was leaving him. Leaving him because he couldn’t stand seeing him humbled like that, laid bare, stripped naked... Hannibal hung his head in utter devastation and humiliation. Oh god, Face was leaving him... His stomach churned in nausea.  

 

_______________________

 

When he’d finally finished packing up his things, Face had stood at the top of the stairs, life’s possessions in his hands and realised he was so damn exhausted he didn’t even have the energy to walk out of the house. He knew he had to go before Hannibal awoke, knew he didn’t have the words to explain everything that was buzzing around in his head just yet, so settled for setting his watch alarm for 0430 and collapsed, utterly worn out, onto his cheap, hard, never-supposed-to-be-used mattress. His sleep, however wasn’t restful; too many memories and too much still to cope with, all whirling around in his exhausted mind. It had been after three thirty, and he was at the point of just giving up and leaving anyway when he’d eventually drifted off properly, the fatigue too strong to resist any further.

 

So, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to find his eyes opening again at almost four in the afternoon, his watch completely unheeded as it had beeped out his alarm almost twelve hours previously. He sat up, startled, eyes falling on the bags packed neatly at the bottom of his bed and wondered where the boss was, listened to the silent house and surmised that he must have gone out to work. His throat was dry and his stomach was empty, he honestly had no recollection of the last time he’d eaten having spent most of the flights from Russia trying to catch some sleep, so he swung his legs out of the bed and rubbed his face tiredly, getting his head together before he pushed himself up and, dressed in only his boxer shorts, headed off down the stairs towards the kitchen.   

 

The door to the spare room was open and Face glanced in as he went past, the beds were neatly made and the floor and dresser clean and empty, BA and Murdock had obviously decided to leave without seeing him. The pang of disappointment was sharp in his chest and he stood for a moment staring at the empty room before he shook the thought away and wandered through the living area and into the kitchen/diner at the back; he needed some food and he needed to get going before Hannibal came home.

 

He rounded the corner of the breakfast bar and froze at the feeling of a cool breeze around his legs, looking up he saw the French doors at the end of the room wide open onto the decking where Hannibal was sitting, bare-chested and dressed in shorts, feet up on the little table, engrossed in a book. For a second, Face just stood, his heart pounding in his chest, eyes raking over Hannibal, at how much better he looked, and then went to take a step backwards, hunger forgotten, just as Hannibal glanced up and saw him.

 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty!” he greeted him, an easy smile on his face, “I was wondering when you would finally rise. Tough few days, huh?”

 

Face, glued to the spot, didn’t answer, but his eyes tracked Hannibal carefully as he swung his bare feet down from the table and walked over, warm hands sliding onto Face’s hips, kiss, light but possessive, on his lips and Face was completely unsure how to handle this.

 

Hannibal smiled at him, seeming to not notice his reticence and lightly circled his wrist with his own fingers, pulling Face along with him as he went out onto the deck once more, leading him into the sunshine and gently pushing him down into a chair. “Look what I made for you,” he offered, smiling again into Face’s blank expression, “I knew you’d want some coffee when you woke up, but I couldn’t keep it on all day just waiting for you, so I made a Thermos, look!” Hannibal held a flask up in his big hand and twisted the top, pouring the hot black coffee into a mug standing ready on the little table. “How’s that for service, hey kid?” Again he didn’t seem to notice that Face didn’t reply as he took the proffered mug and just held it tightly in both hands, trying to work out what the hell was going on here.

 

“You hungry?” Hannibal offered, stepping past him and into the little galley, “I picked up some of the mini Danish pastries you like so much this morning, I’ll put them in the oven for you, be done in about six minutes.”

 

“Hannibal...” Face was surprised to hear his own voice at all.

 

“It’s no problem, kid; I got the toffee pecan ones because I know-”

 

“Hannibal,” Face rose to his feet and followed Hannibal back into the house not really having it in him to play happy families at this point, not when he was planning on doing what he was...

 

“- that you’re not that keen on fruit when it’s all mushy and-”

 

“John,” Face grabbed his arm as he picked up the bag of pastries and spun him around but Hannibal ignored him, eyes on the bag in his hand.

 

“- sour, and that you think it makes the pastry soggy and-”

 

“John!”

 

“What?!” Hannibal suddenly exploded, dropping the pastries to the floor and grabbing Face’s shoulders in his hands, shoving him back until he hit the wall with a dull thud, “What, Face? You got something to say to me? You gonna tell me something? What is it hey, kid? You got something to say, well I’m listening!” Face just stared at him, his eyes wide, “Spit it out, come on! I’m waiting!”

 

“Hannibal... I’m...” and he tailed off. He hadn’t planned it to happen like this, how could he? How could he put everything he was feeling into words?

 

“You’re what?” Hannibal spat at him, anger in every syllable, “Leaving me, Face? Is that what you are trying to say?” Face’s mouth opened but still nothing useful came out. “I saw your bags,” Hannibal hissed, shoving him hard against the wall once more, “What happened? You over-sleep? Planning on clearing out before anyone else was up?” Face’s guilty frown was the only confirmation he needed. “Jesus Christ!” he yelled, giving Face one more shove before flinging his hands away and whirling around to stand at the counter, head down, hands pressed onto the cool marble top. “Eleven years...” he whispered almost to himself, “Eleven years we’ve been together, and you don’t even think I deserve an explanation? A fucking _reason_?”

 

Face’s heart was hammering away in his chest, his knees shaking so much he had to spread his hands out on the wall to steady himself, “I’m... sorry...” was all he could come up with to say.

 

“Sorry?” Face winced at the bitterness to Hannibal’s voice, “Yeah, I bet you are sorry. Sorry that we ever got that damn mission, sorry that you were ever forced to see the truth that had been staring you in the face all these years!”

 

Face closed his eyes in despair, so, Hannibal knew; he wondered who had told him or if he _had_ worked it out for himself back at the car in Magadan, and then realised it didn’t matter, and both Murdock and BA probably felt obliged to tell the boss anyway. He wondered absently what in particular had upset the boss. Wondered if it was killing those farm boys in the woods or trying to take Anya, or maybe even what had happened with Uri on the train, but then Face thought that Murdock only knew half of that story... Anyway, it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that Hannibal knew now what he was like and didn’t like what he saw.

 

He looked over at the back of Hannibal’s bent head and was grateful for the fact that the boss had stayed over there, that Face didn’t have to see the disappointment in his eyes.

 

“I’ll just go then,” he whispered, embarrassed at the roughness to his voice. Hannibal didn’t respond.   

 

Face stood for just a moment longer, waiting, _hoping_ that the boss would say something to him, would tell him that it didn’t matter, that he could help Face to sort all of this out, could make it better like he always did. But no. He pushed off from the wall.

 

“I am sorry, boss...” he whispered, “I never meant for things to work out this way,” Hannibal didn’t move. “And I never wanted to let you down.” The thick silence was smothering in the kitchen so Face turned and stepped back into the diner, he couldn’t do this.

 

Hannibal shook his head, “I’m sorry too, kid,” Face stopped in the doorway, his back to the boss. “I never pretended I was someone I wasn’t,” _unlike me_ , Face thought sadly, “but if I gave you that impression, I _am_ sorry. Misleading you was never on my agenda.”

 

Face frowned, wondering how that even made sense when Hannibal spoke again, low and urgent, everything coming out in a rush as if he was worried he’d lose the courage. “Sometimes circumstances just take over though, kid. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, how resourceful, sometimes someone else just gets the upper hand on you. And that’s what teams are for.” Face’s frown deepened and he heard Hannibal take a deep breath. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I’m sorry it’s had this much of an effect on you. But Face, I’m not sorry that it happened. I never pretended to be a superhero.”

 

His mind whirling away in thought, Face stood still until everything clicked into place and he turned slowly on the spot to find Hannibal watching him, arms crossed tightly across his heart.

 

“You think,” Face chose his words carefully, “that I’m leaving because you were _captured_?”

 

He watched the faint flush appear on Hannibal’s cheeks. “Well, it was more than captured, kid, wasn’t it? I was out thought, out manoeuvred. I was dead if you hadn’t shown up.”

 

Face stared for a minute, this was crazy. He clenched his fists and took a step forward, the need to offer comfort to the man he loved over-whelming his need to leave, “No,” he whispered shaking his head emphatically, “just no! I’d never think that, I never thought that! Jesus, boss, just... no!” 

 

Hannibal looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the honesty in his eyes. Relief rushed through him with the force of a hundred waterfalls and he had to stop himself from sagging to the stool as it left him weak; he always knew when Face was trying to lie to him and this was not one of those times. He scrubbed at his face with a shaking hand, but then hit upon another thought. His brow creased in a  frown as he looked at Face. “Okay,” he whispered, closing the space between them, backing Face into the wall next to the French doors, “so, if it’s not that then, what is it? Why are you leaving me Face?” Belatedly, Face realised he was cornered. Hannibal put his hands up on the wall either side of the kid’s head, and leaned right in, the hairs on his bare chest tickling against Face’s skin, “Tell me,” he whispered, his voice so low that Face could feel it in his chest.

 

Face closed his eyes and plastered himself against the wall, fists tightly clenched.

 

“Tell me,” Hannibal repeated, his fingers trailing lightly down Face’s ribs.

 

“Hannibal please...” Face murmured, trying to melt right into the wall.

 

“Please what, kid? You can have anything you want from me, you know that. Please what?”

 

Face opened his eyes and looked at Hannibal the desperation clear in his expression and Hannibal could read it all there, _Please boss, please figure this out on your own, I can’t tell you..._

 

“Temp,” he whispered his other hand moving from the wall to stroke Face’s cheek as Face’s eyes flicked to the floor, “I don’t know, I honestly don’t have a clue what is upsetting you. I know you want me to work it out, but I can’t not without some help.”

 

Face knocked the stroking hand away, he was trapped and starting to panic. “I don’t want you to work anything out!” he retorted, “I just want to leave!”

 

Hannibal put his hand back up and tried to duck down to get into Face’s eye line, “No you don’t,” he whispered, “you want things to go back to how they were before Russia, right? All this upset stems from what happened in Russia, so come on kid, what happened?”

 

“Nothing!” Face exploded, shoving Hannibal back hard and bolting for the nearest door, the one onto the deck.

 

“Hey!” Hannibal grabbed his arm and held him fast, “Don’t run out on me here. You are scaring me. Now just calm down and tell me what happened to get you all keyed up like this! Nothing can possibly be this bad...”

 

“You think?!” Face was about as far from calm as possible and Hannibal cast a wary eye over the fence, wondering if the neighbours were in yet before tugging Face gently back into the house and kicking the French doors closed with his foot.

 

“Talk to me, kid...” Hannibal whispered reaching up with his free hand to stroke Face’s hair, something that never failed to soothe him.

 

“Don’t touch me!” Face yelled, knocking Hannibal’s hand away and wrenching his wrist free at the same time.

 

Hannibal watched as Face turned and headed for the stairs and suddenly made his decision. He’d let Face walk away from him once over this, whatever 'this' was, and he was damn lucky the kid had come back at all; there was no way he was going to take that risk again. In three long strides he caught up with Face and tackled him from behind, knocking him down face first onto the sofa and throwing himself on top, pinning his arms and legs with his weight advantage.

 

“Get the fuck off me!” Face yelled, struggling ineffectively pinned as he was.

 

“Talk to me,” Hannibal countered, struggling to keep Face underneath him as the kid writhed and tried to buck him off.

 

“No!” the panic in Face’s voice was cutting through him, but this whole mess needed sorting.

 

“What happened in Russia?” Hannibal pushed, trying  to hold Face still beneath him, “As far as I can see you did a damn fine job, you tracked me down, you led the team, you kept them safe, you made the lives of a bunch of street kids a whole lot better, and hell Face, you saved my life. You were amazing.”

 

All the time Hannibal had been talking, Face was still struggling, trying to break free, but at that last line, all the fight bled out of him and he sagged into the sofa cushions, “No,” he whispered, “no, I wasn’t. It was too much...”

 

Hannibal stilled. “Too much? Face, _please_ talk to me. How can it be too much?”

 

“The things I did...” Hannibal could hear the emotions in Face’s words, the shame, the frustration, the downright fear and watched, thinking hard as his boy shook his head and pushed his face into the sofa cushions, hiding from Hannibal.

 

Finally, things started to click, “The things you did? To get the job done? To get me back?” Face didn’t move and Hannibal slid off him, onto his own knees on the floor next to the sofa, one hand on Face’s back, the other trying to turn his face from the cushions. “Look, it’s never easy being the one who has to make those decisions, Face, I know that, I do that all the damn time. All you can do is the very best you can in difficult circumstances, that’s all any of us can do, it’s all I ever do.” Still Face remained silent and still and Hannibal sighed. “I know that some serious shit went down when I wasn’t there, kid, I could see it in your eyes the second you bust into that room to get me out. It’s been in Murdock’s face all week, it was obvious in the way you and BA were looking at each other in Magadan, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what it is.”

 

“You can’t help me anyway,” Face mumbled into the cushions, “you can’t bring people back to life.”

 

A cold chill settled in Hannibal’s gut. Some people didn’t seem to mind the killing, some people damn well thrived on it. For some it was the only reason they joined up in the first place, while for others, and Hannibal considered himself in this category, it was a necessary evil, to be avoided if at all possible, but sometimes just part of the job. And then there were those like Face, who would do it, do it well when they needed to, but then liked to just pretend it had never happened, who had not yet come to terms with themselves as a killer. Hannibal knew he was like this, knew that he would quickly and efficiently bury any thoughts or memories he had of any kill he had had a hand in, but Hannibal had also worried what would happen when that handy little defence mechanism failed, when those thoughts and memories were just too strong to repress.

 

“Okay, kid,” Hannibal got to his feet and literally hauled Face out from the cushions, pulling him into a sitting position and plonking himself down next to him, both arms going around his shoulders, one leg lifting up and pushing behind him until Face was nestled in the gap between his legs, leaning into Hannibal’s chest, wrapped up tightly in every way the boss could get to him. “It’s time to talk. We are not getting up off this sofa until you’ve told me every damn thing that happened while I was captured, and I mean _everything_. I have held off talking to the others until I could talk to you, but Russ is bugging me for paperwork, so you know I’ll ask them as well. Come on Face, this is _not_ going to come between us. Now talk.”

 

The silence in the room was heavy, and Hannibal was just starting to think that Face was going to hold out on him when he felt him fill his chest up with air. “Hannibal...” the fear was still there in his voice, “I can’t tell you...”

 

Frustration was bubbling up within him, but Hannibal had not lived with this man for eleven years without knowing that Face needed patience, patience and more patience. “You can tell me anything.”

 

“I can’t!” and there was the panic. “If I tell you then you’ll...” Face stopped so abruptly he almost swallowed his tongue.

 

“I’ll what?” Hannibal asked in a voice of forced calm, “Be angry with you? Disappointed? Disgusted? What do you think I will be?” Silence. Hannibal tried another tack. “Was that what you felt, Face, when you found me in that room, chained to the wall like a dog, waiting to die, lying in my own piss?”

 

Face jerked out of Hannibal’s arms and turned on him, eyes red with unshed tears, “No!” he rejoined, “Of course not! I’ve told you that!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I would never think that of you!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I love you!”

 

Hannibal slid his big hand onto Face’s cheek just as a tear finally slipped out and rolled down his finger, “And I love you,” he answered gently, “more than anything. More than life. So, why would I think anything like that of you?”

 

Face realised he’d been played and slumped back down onto Hannibal’s chest, those strong, persistent arms coming back up to hold him tight.

 

“Let’s start this again,” he whispered gently. “Tell me everything that happened after I was taken.”

 

The clock on the shelf marked out three whole minutes of seconds before Face took a deep breath against Hannibal’s chest once more, and this time, when he let it out it was followed by the words, “As soon as they had you, I knew we’d been suckered. Murdock had been knocked out and we were being pushed back, so I had no choice but to call a retreat. BA disagreed, he said I was a coward and was running out on you...” the words stuttered to a halt and Hannibal just stroked his hair until he started up again, “We went back to the hut to plan our next move...”

 

And for the next three hours, Face’s quiet voice was the only thing that could be heard in the whole house.

 

__________________________

 

Darkness had fallen by the time the whole story had been relayed, and apart from clarifying a few points here and there, Hannibal hadn’t spoken, he’d just stroked Face’s hair, or his back or smoothed up and down his arm or pulled him a little closer as he stumbled through the train journey to Irkutsk, or the forest around Omsk. When Face had stopped at the moment he’d kicked through Hannibal’s door, the boss gathered him even closer, pulling his head into the gap under his own chin and dropping a kiss into his soft curls.

 

Face waited, panic starting up in the back of his mind; maybe Hannibal wasn’t able to understand, maybe he felt the anger, disgust and disappointment that Face had feared so much... Eventually Hannibal drew a huge, shuddering breath in and Face braced himself for the absolute worst, for the boss to say the words that he’d heard so many times already in his own head...

 

“Oh, my god,” Face closed his eyes, as he felt Hannibal shaking his head above him, “my poor, sweet, brave boy... I knew it was going to be hard for you, but I had no idea just how bad.” Those arms were warm around him and Face felt something inside him start to crack open.

 

“You have done so, so well, with all of this, Face. _Christ_ , kid, I am _so_ proud of you.” Face blinked and tried to sit up, but Hannibal held him still. “All your decisions - made in the heat of the moment, under the most incredible amounts of pressure and yet you still held it all together. You juggled shit loads of crap and still managed to track me across two thirds of Russia! People died? You’re a soldier kid, sometimes people get killed, that’s the nature of our life.”

“But...” Face swallowed hard, “I left you!”

 

“You had to,” Hannibal soothed. “You knew damn well what you were doing, kid, and you did the right thing. We were caught well and truly on the hop, you were a man down, a man injured. What would have happened if you had stayed and fought?”

 

Face just shrugged in his arms.

 

“Don’t bullshit me, kid. You know what would have happened, now spill.”

 

Face let out a long sigh, “They’d’ve taken us down, probably fatally.”

 

“Exactly,” Hannibal breathed into his hair, “and you _knew_ that, that’s why you got your men the hell out of there. Regrouped, came back with a better plan at a better time. Face, you read the situation perfectly, you acted quickly and appropriately. Why would you doubt yourself?”

 

That was one conversation that Face really wasn’t going to have so he quickly shifted to the next thing on his mind, “Boss... those farm kids...”

 

“I know...” Hannibal smoothed one hand through his hair and kissed in its wake, “But you didn’t take them from their village, you didn’t force them into wielding a gun. They might have been country boys but _they would have killed you, or Murdock or BA_ , so you needed to do what you did, Face. I would have done the same.” The gentle, unrelenting pressure of Hannibal’s arms slowly pulled Face back down to lie on his chest once more.

 

“And Anya?”

 

“Oh, kid,” Face could feel the slightest chuckle under his cheek, “I think after getting her away from those sex traders anyone would forgive you anything with her. You were upset, it was a heat of the moment thing, you apologised. It’s over.”

 

Face mulled that over for a few minutes, the feel of Hannibal’s hand in his hair calming him enough so he had the nerve to finally ask, “And the _Provodnik_? On the train?”

 

Hannibal’s hand in his hair never paused, but the silence stretched out into minutes before he let out a long breath. “Face. You are mine. You _know_ how I feel about this. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are, whether you are running the show or not, you know I _hate_ the fact that you think it’s okay for you to use your body in that way.”

 

Face sighed. They had had this conversation to death over the years, and it was usually at this point that Face would make some comment about his body being his best resource and how he should use it to its full potential, but somehow that didn’t seem entirely appropriate at the moment.

 

“I can’t stand the thought of anyone touching you like that...” Face could feel the tension in Hannibal’s arms and knew that the boss was trying so, so hard to keep a lid on his temper.

 

“We wouldn’t have got onto that train if I’d not bargained like that,” he whispered and felt those arms twitch tighter.

 

“I don’t know Face, I wasn’t there. You asked how I felt and I’ve told you, even though you probably already knew. I don’t hate you kid, I don’t feel disgust or disappointment... I feel sad that despite everything you have going for you, you still rate yourself so low that you would let someone use you like that.”

 

Face felt hot tears sting his eyes and he turned his face into Hannibal’s chest, trying to blot out the pain that those words lanced through him. The thought, _I wasn’t being used, I was using him!_ ringing empty even to his own ears. He felt Hannibal’s arms tighten even more around him, and that big hand slide onto the back of his head, cupping it securely, holding him close. “You forgive me, boss?” he asked, hearing the child he used to be in that voice and hating himself for it.

 

Hannibal squeezed him so hard it was painful, “Forgive you? Oh, kid, I’m so sorry...” Face tensed in his arms; _Sorry?_ Oh, god, no forgiveness then, this _was_ too hard for the boss after all... “There’s nothing for me to forgive you for,” Hannibal continued, his broken voice full of remorse. “I’m the one who should be begging _your_ forgiveness, I’m the one who made you go through all that!” he continued and a little bubble of hope inflated in Face’s chest, tempered only by the pain in the voice of his love.

 

He shifted his head so his words came out clear, if exhausted, into the darkness, “John – please don’t. Your understanding is all I need. It wasn’t your fault; it’s not like you were captured on purpose!”

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Hannibal replied quietly, “I’m your CO Face. All these years I should have been preparing you for this, training you for your own command, equipping you with the confidence you need to make all these shit choices without letting it grind you into the dirt.” Face shook his head but Hannibal just held him tightly against his bare chest and continued. “Thing is though,” it was almost as if he were talking to himself, “I never really wanted that for you. I wanted you to stay by my side forever, tried to keep you down when I should have been helping you to soar. I didn’t teach you any of those things as I never actually wanted you to go off and do them! I’m so sorry kid, I’ve been unbelievably selfish, but from right now, things change.”

 

Face shook his head again, “Hannibal...”

 

“No, listen to me Face, this is wrong! This whole business in Russia has proved it! You have all the ability you need, you just need the confidence to follow your convictions and...”

 

“Hannibal...”

 

“...you’re going to be a damn fine commander, I’ve always known it, if I hadn’t held you back you would at least be a Captain by now. That could be our aim, kid, by the end of the year; Captain, what do you think?”

 

“Hannibal...” Face lifted his head from Hannibal’s chest and looked at him in the dark of the evening, “No,” he shook his head again, “that’s not what I want, not at all.”

 

Smiling affectionately at him, Hannibal lifted a hand and stroked his cheek, “I know kid, I know you feel settled with me and safe, but you are worth much more than this! It wouldn’t have to change anything between _us_ if you didn’t want it to, I mean I know we might not see each other as much, might not be together all the time, but I’m sure we could swing similar postings, Russ would still want you in his command somewhere. It would be worth it in the end.”

 

Yet again, Face shook his head and wondered if Hannibal was being deliberately obtuse, “No, boss,” he whispered, “it’s not what I want. I don’t want my own command, I don’t want to stay with the General,” Hannibal frowned in confusion and Face sighed. “Hannibal,” the atmosphere in the room suddenly tightened, “John. I don’t even want to be in the army anymore.”

 

For a second the look on Hannibal’s face was one of utter shock, but then he quickly schooled it back into passive neutrality. “Look, kid, I know this whole op was hard on you...”

 

“It’s not that, Hannibal. It’s just not _me_ ; I can’t do this anymore. I didn’t handle one damn thing right without you, I made mistakes and people died, hell, even my own team fought against me!” Hannibal’s eyes narrowed at that remark, “I was a complete fuck-up.”

 

“No! Face, you need to listen to me! You are damn good at all of this, one of the best! I’ve told you that all along, you know how much you impressed me after you were transferred into my unit. Your potential is limitless. This is a hurdle, that’s all, it might have knocked you down a bit, but you’ll bounce back!”

 

Face tried to pull away, but Hannibal only let him sit up, keeping him between his legs on the sofa, “Maybe I don’t want to bounce back,” he told him, eyes solemn, “maybe I just want out.”

 

There was a minute of silence as the two men stared at each other in the darkness. “You don’t mean that,” Hannibal eventually whispered.

 

“I’m sorry boss,” the honesty in Face’s voice was obvious, “but I do.”

 

Hannibal leaned over and flicked on the reading lamp and then sat up again, regarding him carefully. There was no sign of teasing in those bright blue eyes, no sign of a temper tantrum either and Hannibal sighed as he began the think that perhaps Face might just be serious about this. “So,” he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, “what instead? You got something in mind?”

 

Leaning back into the cushions with one of Hannibal’s legs in the small of his back, the other across his thighs, Face turned his head to the window and looked out at the darkened sky. “I could go back to college I suppose,” he offered, _and finish it this time_ , Hannibal thought since he knew damn well that Face had got into the army with forged documents. “It worked out okay for Piper.”

 

Hannibal sighed, “You want to be a doctor?” he asked, surprise in his voice, “Well, you can be anything you want to be, kid, you’ve certainly got the brains. But don’t forget Piper was already halfway through Med School when he joined the army. Wasn’t too hard for him to finish up once he’d left. And he left the army to spend more time with his family, kid, your family is...”

 

When Hannibal stuttered to a halt and Face turned back from the window, smiling at his CO, “My family is here, with you, boss. I know that; it’s the only reason I’d stay. The only reason I came back at all.”   

 

Again the atmosphere in the room changed, but this time it seemed to crackle and fizz with electricity. Hannibal’s hand reached out ever so slowly until it was cupping the side of Face’s cheek once more, the thumb rubbing along the prominent bone under his eye as Hannibal tilted Face’s head to just the right angle, “My one, sweet boy,” he whispered, as much to himself as Face. “The day you came into my life was the day I started living. What I ever did to deserve this much love and happiness with you, I will never understand.”

 

A red flush spread out under Hannibal’s palm, “Boss...” Face muttered, embarrassed, but Hannibal just pulled him in.

 

“You are everything to me, Templeton, absolutely everything,” and before Face had chance to complain again, Hannibal’s lips were on his, soft and slow and gentle, teasing him open, making him desperate for more. It had been a long, long time since Face had had this. Too long. Last night had been... different. Yes, it had fulfilled a need, a deep burning need, but it hadn’t been _this_ , and god, he’d missed it.

 

He shifted in Hannibal’s lap, twisting around in the space between those hard thighs, rubbing their hips together through their shorts, pressing his mouth harder, more securely to the boss’. He felt Hannibal’s tongue push against his lips and he opened up, welcoming him home, sucking him in where he would never leave and at the same time, his hand brushed against the hard heat pushed up against the fly of Hannibal’s shorts and he started rubbing, firm circular strokes that soon had the boss panting in his mouth.

 

“Last night,” Hannibal whispered, pulling away just enough that his words fanned out over Face’s still wet lips, “What was all that about, kid? Why wouldn’t you let me love you properly?” He felt Face tug against his hands but held on grimly, dropping their foreheads together, “Come on, don’t try and run from me again.”

 

Face slid his hands over Hannibal’s and held on, trying to find a way to get the words out of his mouth. “How could I?” he eventually whispered, “I didn’t deserve it.”

 

“What?!” Face winced at the anger in Hannibal’s voice, “You didn’t deserve my love? What kind of crap talk is that?” Again Face tried to pull back, dropping his head to his chest when Hannibal wouldn’t let him and so he felt the long exhale of breath as it ruffled to top of his hair, “I’m sorry, Temp, come here, I’m sorry.” Face let himself be pulled in until his head was resting back on the top of Hannibal’s chest and he could turn his face to stare out across the room.

 

The five minutes of silence was like a blanket over them before Hannibal eventually spoke again, “I shouldn’t have shouted, I _am_ sorry.”

 

“It’s okay boss, I don't blame you for any of this.”

 

Face’s words were barely out of his mouth before he was jerked backwards off Hannibal’s chest and found himself looking into his boss’ furious face once again, “No! Because you are too busy blaming yourself!” Hannibal shouted and Face just stared at him.

 

“God damn you Face! You make me so mad! No one ever pushes my buttons like you do! What do I have to do to _ever_ get anything through to you?!” Face’s mouth opened, but in the force of Hannibal’s anger he had nothing to say. “I fucking _love_ you! I’ve been telling you that for almost eleven years! When the fuck are you ever going to start believing me?”

 

Without giving chance for Face to answer he pushed on, still shouting into his lieutenant's face. “And when I was captured and when you were in Russia, I _missed_ you! I missed you so much it was like I was empty inside! All I wanted to do when you came home was love you. I didn’t care where you’d been, I didn’t care why you’d stayed, I just wanted that special moment we can create where there is no one else in the whole damn world but us! You know what I mean don’t you?” Face nodded dumbly and Hannibal’s anger suddenly and abruptly evaporated, replaced instead by a sadness so absolute that Face could almost reach out and feel it. “But you wouldn’t let me,” he whispered, his eyes holding on to Face's, “You shut me out and only let in the bits of me you wanted. Damnit Face! You made me hurt you!”

 

Face blinked rapidly to clear his cloudy vision and reached his thumb up to wipe away the moisture rimming Hannibal’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, boss,” his voice catching on that last word.

 

Again Hannibal just deflated, “I know you are,” they slid back into each other’s arms, “and so am I, kid, so am I. What a right royal fuck-up we’ve made of this, yeah?”

 

Letting out a noise mid way between a sob and a laugh, Face wiped his eyes on the heel of his palm as he clung to the smooth skin of Hannibal’s shoulder, before pulling back and sliding his own hands up to cup the boss’ cheeks, pulling him closer, “What about now? Is it too late? You could love me now... If you wanted.” 

 

“Oh, baby, it’s never too late.” Hannibal leant in and Face met him and their mouth’s fused once more, but this time there was an urgency about it that hadn’t been there before. Within seconds, Face’s hand was on Hannibal’s shorts stroking that growing bulge, trying to say everything with his hands that he hadn’t quite managed with his words.

 

Suddenly Hannibal moved. “You - in me - now,” he gasped, wrenching his mouth from Face’s for air to get in and words to get out.

 

His lieutenant’s blue eyes opened slightly wider but he didn’t pause, just reached over to the table with the lamp on at the end of the sofa and yanked the drawer open, grabbing for the little bottle of oil he knew was there. While his desperate fingers scrabbled around the DVD remote, a few stray cigars, an ancient lighter and Murdock’s collection of cracker jokes from last Christmas, he felt Hannibal squirming underneath him, kicking out of his khaki shorts and the white trunks he had on below. Face dropped his eyes, unable to resist a look but hardly got chance to focus as Hannibal reared up and caught his mouth again, pulling him down with both hands, mashing their bodies and mouths together with a violent need.

 

For a few minutes Face let himself be swept along in it all, Hannibal’s hands on his ass, kneading his flesh through the thin cotton of his boxers, his boss’ mouth, so, so clever, opening every bit of him up, tasting him, reaching right down into his soul.  

 

“Jesus, boss!” he eventually exclaimed, pulling himself free as he realised his hand was still flailing hopelessly in the drawer, “Let me get to the slick or we’ll never do this!”

 

Hannibal tried to pull him down again, one hand on his shoulders, the other creeping up the curve of his ass through his boxers, “Don’t need it...” he growled against Face’s neck as he started nipping a line down towards his collar bone, “Take me dry kid, want to feel your heat. Want. You. _Now!_.”

 

Face’s fingers connected on the bottle just in the nick of time as he felt himself sagging hopelessly against the colonel as those words zeroed straight in on his already overstretched libido. But he wouldn’t do that to Hannibal, the boss was the first person who had ever bothered to prepare Face properly for penetration, the only person to show him that it didn’t have to hurt like hell, that he could enjoy it too. He would never, ever hurt Hannibal in the way he himself had been hurt too often in the past.

 

“Be quiet and open up,” Face murmured at him, affection clear in his voice, “I’m getting impatient.” Their eyes locked together, Face felt something spring between them and a huge smile erupted over the lieutenant’s face as he suddenly realised that they were back, their elastic band repaired. _This_ was them, and _this_ is what they did the very, very best.

 

Hannibal saw that beautiful smile above him and found his own mouth curving up in response as he opened his thighs obscenely wide, one long leg sprawling across the wooden floor to make up for the one that was crushed against the back of the sofa. Face felt his mouth go dry and froze in the act of unscrewing the bottle of oil, he would never get used to seeing Hannibal like this, this powerful lion of a man, just spread out, open and waiting, for _him_.

 

“Close your mouth, boy,” Hannibal teased, a sudden and almost over whelming surge of happiness threatening to burst right out of him, “or I might feel the need to shove something in it.”

 

Face snapped back to attention and let a dangerously wicked smile spread across his features, “I might just take you up on that,” his whispered as he lubed up his hands, “and then you’d be sorry.”

 

“Sorry?” Hannibal replied, but it came out as more of a gasp as Face’s long, slick finger suddenly slid inside him. “Why would I be sorry?”

 

“Because,” Face whispered, leaning over to get the angle in his hand just right, “then you wouldn’t feel _this_.”

 

Hannibal cried out as Face expertly brushed his finger across the boss’ prostate and Face smiled in triumph, watching as the eyes he loved so much fluttered closed at the sensation. As he withdrew his single finger, instantly returning with two more, Hannibal blinked open at him again and smiled back, “Oh, I don’t know,” he whispered, “clever boy like you, thought you’d be able to do both at once.”

 

Face was finding it harder to flirt now, Hannibal’s heat clenching around his fingers, those blue eyes fluttering open and closed with his movements, that heavy cock laid across the boss’ flat stomach, and his own, still untouched, ready and waiting, throbbing in time with the beating of his heart. “You know I can,” he breathed, sliding his fingers out and pulling the boss’s hips up over his knees, “but not right now, old man, now you get this...”

 

He reached out with one hand to line himself up and noticed with horror that he still had his boxers on. A string of colourful expletives flowed from his lips and Hannibal started to laugh, throaty chuckles that seemed to come right from the depths of his chest. Those chuckles died in his throat however, as Face just whispered, “Oh, fuck, it!” and pulled his cock through the fly of his shorts, breaching that muscled ring in almost the same movement and pushing right in, all the way down, the way he knew the boss loved. 

 

“Jesus _Christ!_ ” Hannibal breathed out, “A bit of warning, kid!”

 

“Warning?” Face muttered, the strain of holding himself back evident in his voice, “What the fuck did you think we were gonna do here boss? Me with the slick and you with your legs spread like that? Play fucking cards?”

 

“Potty mouth,” Hannibal grumbled, “I thought you would at least take your pants off! Now shut up and kiss me...” 

 

Face didn’t need asking twice. He leaned forward, trapping the red hot heat of Hannibal’s cock between them and started plundering that more than willing mouth; echoing the thrusts of his cock with the thrusts of his tongue. They could talk until the sun came up and still not be able to say everything they wanted to, but _this?_... Well, this was communication at its finest.

 

It was in this way that time passed very quickly and the temperature rose very high. Face felt his orgasm threatening and lifted up, needing to change his angle, give himself a bit of space or this would be over embarrassingly quickly. He pushed up on the sofa, hands either side of Hannibal’s head, wanting to get back to his knees, but the boss stopped him, his own hands on Face’s cheeks, his pale blue eyes finding his lieutenant’s and holding him there.

 

Face knew he needed to stop, knew his climax was lurking around the corner, but his hips seemed to have mind of their own as he looked down at Hannibal and they rocked gently, in and out, just keeping everything bubbling over nicely.

 

“I wanted to look at you,” Hannibal whispered, his voice intense, “I love seeing you like this, inside me,” Face felt the warmth building inside him but he couldn’t look away. “This is when you are the most beautiful to me, when you are so open and expressive and so completely mine.” The urgency in his hips seemed to double and the movement became just a little demanding. Hannibal smiled at him and the smile had so much pure happiness in it that Face felt himself falling, “God, I love you, Face, I love you so fucking much!” and the dam broke.

 

Hearing something embarrassingly like a sob coming from his mouth, Face gave two deep, frantic thrusts and then he was coming, shooting his love as deep into his boss as he could, hoping to leave a little part of himself in there forever. His arms gave out and he collapsed onto Hannibal’s chest, his slick cock sliding out and he found himself worrying about the mess they were making of the sofa, belatedly realising that he was slipping towards the floor.

 

Hannibal’s arms quickly fastened around him and pulled him back up, letting the younger man sprawl across his chest and Face came back to his full senses to the sound that throaty chuckle right underneath his ear.

 

“What?” he murmured, too boneless to move.

 

“You,” the amusement was obvious in Hannibal’s voice. “Kid, did I just make you come by telling you I loved you?”

 

Face felt his cheeks flush, “No,” he muttered.

 

“Ah, you just always that quick these days?”

 

A groan of mortification came from Face’s lips as he turned his head to hide in Hannibal’s chest, “Can I help it if you are just too damn sexy?” he replied, his voice muffled by the muscle it was spoken into.

 

Hannibal laughed again and Face felt a hand in his hair, “You charmer. And don't be upset, I loved it. I love you remember.”

 

Finally forcing his head up, Face looked Hannibal in the eye, “You sure?” he asked tentatively, “I mean it’s not like you even came...” he could feel the hot evidence of that pressing against his thigh.

 

“Who says we always have to come together?” Hannibal reassured him, “And it’s not like you are planning on turning in for the night just yet are you?” Face raised an eyebrow pretending to consider it and Hannibal smacked him playfully across the head, “Yeah, well, don’t,” he replied, “or there will be trouble.” Face laughed and allowed Hannibal to pull him back onto his chest.

 

They stayed like that for long minutes, listening to the sounds of the roosting birds and next door’s muted barbeque music as Face slowly felt his bones returning to full rigidity.

 

Just as Hannibal’s legs were starting to go to sleep, Face cleared his throat, bringing Hannibal’s attention back onto him and he shifted around so he could see his boss’ face. “You know, John,” Hannibal tensed at the trepidation in Face’s tone, “Leaving the army wouldn’t be leaving you. You do know that right?”

 

It was like a cold, clammy hand had suddenly gripped Hannibal’s heart. He’d hoped that it had just been  Face’s uncertainty that had been talking; thought that maybe once they had had a proper reunion, he would give up on his idea. He glanced down and realised that Face was looking at him, waiting for an answer. “I don't know, kid,” he responded truthfully. “It wouldn’t be easy though would it?”

 

“No harder than if I had my own unit. And anyway, plenty of army folks have civilian wives who don’t go away.”

 

“And that’s what you would be then Face? My little army wife, waiting for me to come home?” Face flushed and Hannibal shook his head, “That’s not you, kid, you know it’s not.” An awkward silence fell between them. “You really are serious about leaving?” Hannibal eventually asked him.

 

“I have to boss,” Face replied with a sigh, “I’ve proved to myself I can’t do it.”

 

Hannibal bit back the retort he wanted to make, how he wanted to yell and rant at Face until the kid understood just how bloody good he was at all of this but he knew that would do no good at all, would only get Face’s back up and drive a wedge between them. What he really needed to do was let Face have his head and hopefully he would eventually make the right decision on his own; although there was nothing stopping Hannibal from helping that decision along... “Well, if you left, then I’d have to leave with you,” he whispered instead.

 

That got Face’s attention, “What?!” he cried, wrenching himself out of Hannibal’s arms and sitting up.

 

Hannibal fixed him with a bland, innocent expression. “It makes sense, kid, don't you think? We wouldn’t have to hide, we wouldn’t have to worry about DADT. We could live together in the true sense of the world, be a proper couple. It would be great.”

 

Face narrowed his eyes. None of that mattered that much to him, he liked his relationship with Hannibal to be as private as it was, he didn’t think he even wanted the whole world to know about them. Somehow it seemed so much more special that it was so secret. “But what would you do?” he asked. “The army is your life!”

 

Leaning forward, Hannibal took hold of Face’s chin and pulled him close, “ _You_ are my life,” he whispered, looking right into Face’s eyes, then he bent down and kissed him again.

 

Letting Hannibal’s tongue chase away uncomfortable images of his boss as no longer part of the army that was his home, Face relaxed into the kiss, feeling those large hands skimming over his bare back, and the insistent nudging of the still hard cock against his hip. He lifted up, deciding that the boss had waited long enough, and took both of those large hands in his own, stepping backwards off the sofa and drawing Hannibal with him, pulling him up to his feet.

 

Thinking they were heading for the bedroom, Hannibal paused at the door through to the hallway but Face kept on pulling him, through the diner and over to the French doors. Dropping one of Hannibal’s hands, Face opened a door and went to step out, freezing as Hannibal tugged him back. “What are you doing?” the boss hissed at him, “there are people in next door’s yard!”

 

Face looked at the six foot fence surrounding their own postage stamp sized back yard and smiled a beautifully innocent smile, “Next door’s yard, boss, not ours. What’s the problem?” He kicked the doors open with his bare foot and pulled Hannibal along with him as he stepped onto the cool decking. “Unless they climb up the fence they won’t see anything, and unless you make a lot of noise,” he raised an eyebrow challengingly, “they won’t hear anything. So,” he tugged Hannibal over to one of the chairs, “I repeat, what’s the problem?”

 

Hannibal sat down heavily as Face’s hands connected with his chest, “The _problem_ lieutenant,” he replied, “is that they might just do either one of those things, and then where would we be?”

 

“We would be here,” Face replied smoothly, pulling a cushion from the other chair and kneeling on it between Hannibal’s legs, “me sucking on your cock and you r _eally_ getting off on knowing that there are people just _two feet away from us..._ ”

 

Hannibal’s eyes slid shut as Face licked a hot stripe up his very interested cock and Face chuckled to himself. He knew the boss had a total thing for taking Face in public, would love to have him in a park or on a beach or a picnic area or something, somewhere where lots of people could watch... While Face might not be able to do anything about that particular fantasy right now, he knew the boss would still love this. “Oh, god...” Hannibal murmured. “Templeton you are a decadent floozy, leading me astray like this...”

 

Face laughed around the cock head in his mouth, making Hannibal almost leap off the seat, “I’m not the one naked in the garden,” he retorted, lifting his mouth just high enough that his words flowed straight over the tight, shiny skin.

 

“That might just have made some difference...” Hannibal breathed, pushing his head back into the headrest of the chair, “if your cock wasn’t still hanging out of your pants...”

 

Interrupting his task, Face let his fingers take over as he glanced down, a little embarrassed to see his already hardening cock hanging obscenely out of his boxer shorts. He shrugged slightly and tucked it away again before dropping his head and taking Hannibal all the way into his mouth in one go. “Jesusfuckinghell!” Hannibal hissed bucking his hips up to meet that warm wetness and Face pulled off again shooting his boss a mock glare.

 

“Hannibal!” he hissed, “Have some decorum will you!” he nodded at the fence, “There are decent people trying to enjoy their BBQ next door!”

 

Hannibal just shook his head, and sliding both his hands firmly into Face’s hair, he pushed the kid down again, with a whispered, “Shut up and suck me!” sending shivers all over Face’s body.

 

Face was a good soldier and liked to do what he was told. Occasionally at least, so he did shut up and suck his boss. He was also very good at giving head and within five minutes Hannibal had his own forearm clamped between his teeth as he bucked his hips up into Face’s mouth, his other hand holding the kid’s head still as he emptied himself in long, thick spurts right into that more than willing mouth.

 

“Jesusfuckinghell!” he whispered again as Face pulled off him and started cleaning him up with long sweeps of his tongue like some demented semen-fed cat.

 

“You okay, boss?” Face asked innocently, wiping come from his chin with one long finger.

 

Hannibal could only shake his head as that image did things to his supposedly spent cock, “Fantastic, kid... Now all I need is a beer.”

 

“Hang on!” Face offered brightly and rose to his feet, then placed on foot on the chair Hannibal was sitting on, right between his naked thighs, and pushed up, holding onto the top of the fence, his head leaning over into next door’s yard.

 

“Oh, Jesus...” Hannibal sighed, hiding his head in his hand and wishing Face hadn’t trapped him in his chair like this.

 

“Yo! Mick!” he heard Face call across the fence.

 

“Hey! Temp! When’d you get back, man? We’re havin’ a party, you comin’ over dude?” Mick liked to think he was a surfer dude, or some kind of rock hero, truth was he was a librarian from Idaho, but Hannibal really liked him, he was a good guy.

 

“Naw,” Face replied easily, “just got back last night, still a little space sick you know?” He tapped the side of his nose and Hannibal could just imagine Mick nodding earnestly; for some unfathomable reason, both Mick and his live-in girlfriend Lily, though Face was an astronaut... “Would love a coupla beers though!” he added brightly and Hannibal heard the sound of clinking ice in a bucket as Mick rushed to comply.

 

“No probs, dude! Here you go!” Two cans suddenly appeared on the top of the fence and Hannibal froze, his cock trying to climb back into his body to hide.

 

Face clanked them together and then raised one in a mock salute, “Cheers mate!” he replied and dropped back down onto the decking holding one out to Hannibal, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

 

Hannibal took it off him and stood up, slipping back through the French doors. “Hey! Where are you going?” Face hissed after him almost walking straight into the boss as he stopped stock still in front of him.

 

“To have this in bed,” he whispered, “before you give our poor neighbour a heart attack!”

 

Face chuckled, and locking the doors behind him, flicked off the lights and followed Hannibal upstairs.

 

__________________

 

Hannibal listened to Face’s shower running the next morning while he made coffee and Danish pastries in the kitchen, and wondered if this was the eye of the storm or just the calm before it. Either way, he knew this thing hadn’t blown over completely yet; Face was still convinced he was leaving the army, he’d asked Hannibal if they could go over and see the General today, start the ball rolling so to speak. Hannibal had been very noncommittal about the whole thing, then he’d waited for Face to go out on his run, and called Russ anyway, just really wanting to tell him the kid was back, and if other things did or didn’t come up in conversation then so be it.

 

As it happened, other things did come up in conversation. Things that meant Russ would no doubt be very _un_ receptive to thoughts of Face leaving. And the evidence of these ‘things’ had just been couriered over to Hannibal to look at for himself. He’d been surprised, and started wondering just how many other facts Face had left out of his account of the mission in Russia. It had certainly made Hannibal think, and as he put the coffee pot, pastries and large manila envelope down on the breakfast bar, he hoped they’d make Face think twice as well.        

 

Eventually Face appeared at the doorway, looking happy and refreshed; Hannibal smiled at him, thinking that hot morning sex could certainly do that for a person. He slid onto the stool next to his boss and piled four Danishes onto his plate, surreptitiously glancing at Hannibal as he remembered the scene in the kitchen the previous afternoon and the bag being dropped to the floor... Noticing his sheepish expression, Hannibal just gripped his thigh through the material of his jeans and picked up the manila envelope.

 

“What’s that boss?” Face asked as he picked the pecans off the top of a Danish and popped them into his mouth. Hannibal couldn’t hold back his frown as he slid the papers out of their envelope and laid them out in front of Face, one by one.

 

“Photo of the cellar in  Barsukov’s house, full of guns creamed from the Russian army; a copy of a receipt, made out to Barsukov for forty seven AK-103s and 4 GP30 Grenade launchers, paid for in US dollars; a copy of a page of a log book, detailing money in and arms out, all coming through Barsukov,” Hannibal glanced up at Face who was looking at the pictures with a fairly disinterested look on his face as he munched his way steadily through his pastry, so he laid another sheet out in front of him, “A printout of contacts in the Russian army, who, supposedly, have been supplying Barsukov with these weapons; a printout of contacts in the US, who, supposedly have been buying these weapons,” still Face didn’t react, Hannibal pulled out another sheet, “A copy of the contract taken out on the life of one, _Alexi Shubukin_ , freelance reporter, who was killed while investigating arms going missing from Russian army bases; a copy of the offences Barsukov is currently being charged with back in Moscow...” At last Face showed some interest, and lifted the last sheet from the counter, studying it impassively for a few minutes before putting it back and picking up another Danish.   

 

Hannibal watched him, then leaned forward, “Face?”

 

Face’s eyes flicked up to him, “Yeah, boss?”

 

“Where do you think that the Russian authorities got all this dirt on Barsukov then?”

 

Face finished up his Danish and wiped his fingers on his jeans, “Yeah, I lifted it from his safe, dropped it in with the local _Militsyia_ before I left.”

 

Hannibal nodded slowly, “But that safe had been raided before, no evidence was ever found.”

 

“Huh! Sneaky little fucker had a secret panel at the back, separate lock and everything! Bet the people who searched it before didn’t even know it was there.”

 

“But you did?”

 

“Good guess, boss, that’s all. Barsukov may be a nasty son of a bitch, but he’s not a fool.”

 

Hannibal turned back to the pile of evidence in front of him and thought for a moment, “So, how did you even know that Barsukov was running the gig? Back in the day he was nothing more than a glorified secretary, I never thought he had it in him.”

 

Face poured himself some coffee, “I didn’t find anything out boss, it was Sasha, he told me that Barsukov sold guns for the streets. Looking at the size of that house, I just figured he was probably into something a little more profitable as well, thought I’d see what I could find in his safe.”

 

There was another minute of silence before Hannibal spoke again, “Funny thing is though...” Face looked up at him over the rim of his coffee cup, “Seems like all of Barsukov’s money has just disappeared. All his accounts have been emptied, no cash in the safe, nothing. Barsukov is furious, he’s blaming the Russian authorities for stealing it all.”

 

Raising his eyebrows a little Face nodded, “Probably did.”

 

“Hmmm,” Hannibal agreed, “But I did a little checking myself, seems that each one of those street kids suddenly has a small fortune awaiting them when they turn eighteen.”

 

Face just smiled at him, “Fairy Godmother?” he asked innocently.

 

Hannibal smiled back, “I don’t know how you did it, kid...”

 

But he faltered as Face’s smile vanished, “Yeah,” he whispered sliding off the stool and heading for the door, “me either.”

 

“Hey,” Hannibal caught his arm as he tried to pass, “don’t start that again, kid. All of this here,” he swung his arm out at the papers on the counter, “will put that bastard away for life. _And_ has stopped the flow of guns into the states from Russia.”

 

“For now...” Face muttered.

 

“Yes! For now!” Hannibal snapped, “But it’s better than nothing and no one knew who was responsible, no one had any intel at all until you came up with all this, you know that?”

 

Face looked back at the all the sheets laid out in the kitchen and shrugged.

 

“You’ve done an incredible job. Russ is over the moon, wants to see you as soon as, plenty of other big brass are thrilled with you as well, kid! And I’m just so damn proud...”

 

He reached out with his other hand and tugged Face to him, drinking in the smell of his shampoo, rubbing his hand over the hard planes of his back, and then freezing as he heard the words, “I still want to leave though,” as they were whispered almost into his ear.

 

___________________

 

It had been at that point that Hannibal realised he needed a plan. Face seemed set on his course of action, and Hannibal knew that any attempt to simply persuade the kid otherwise would involve him digging his heels in and being stubborn for the sheer hell of it. It was also imperative to keep him away from Russell Morrison for at least the next few days as well. Russ was thrilled with Face, this job with Barsukov was a jewel in his crown as far as he was concerned, and Face the new wonder kid who had produced it. Any suggestion from Face about leaving would be met with anger and probably derision from Russ at this particular point, he was having far too much fun throwing back into people’s faces all the comments they had made about Smith’s little band of misfits and the trouble they would undoubtedly cause.

 

And then of course Face would blow up and engage in some dreadfully insubordinate behaviour that Hannibal may or may not be able to save him from, but either way, it would taint his relationship with the General for good, possibly damage it beyond repair and that was the very last thing that Hannibal needed given the long term plans he had for this team. Face and Morrison were just far too similar to get along that well; Hannibal knew damn well it was that fact that made them the only two people he had ever fallen in love with.

 

So, a plan was required, and Hannibal thought he might just have exactly what was needed blossoming hopefully in the back of his mind. He made a few phone calls, exchanged a couple of texts and it was all on. Now, all he had to do was convince Face to play along.

 

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter in the kitchen and watched as Face shoved almost the entire contents of his kit bag from Russia straight into the washing machine, “how do you fancy a few days away, kid?”

 

Face paused with his hand deep in the depths of his bag, “Work or play?” he queried cautiously.

 

“Play, definitely play,” Hannibal clarified.

 

Nodding as he turned back to the washer Face shoved another handful of filthy clothing into the drum, “You know I’m always up for that, boss.”

 

“Good,” Hannibal beamed down at him. “You remember that beach house we used? On Tybee Island?”

 

Again Face turned around to look at him. Seriously? How could he ever forget? It was the most beautiful house set right on the beach, huge windows looking out at the Atlantic, pool and hot tub on the deck, roof garden with a barbeque, and the biggest bed he had ever seen in his entire life. He and the boss had gone there after Face had been shot in the thigh about eighteen months ago, it was a holiday let, but some friend of the boss had let them have it cheap. It had been absolutely idyllic. “Of course I remember,” he knew his smile reflected exactly which parts of that break he was currently remembering, “we going back there?”

 

Hannibal nodded lazily at him, enjoying the look of anticipation on the kid’s face. “Sure are, I’ve managed to get the place for ten days, starting tomorrow.”

 

Face was on his feet in seconds, arms around the boss, mouth pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder, “Oh, you are the best boss,” he whispered, but then pulled away, a frown creasing his forehead, “But... you think the General will let us have the time? I mean – well – he can’t have been too thrilled with the extra time I stayed out in Russia for...”

 

“Are you kidding?” Hannibal held him back to look in his eyes, “After all that,” he nodded at the manila envelope as it lay innocently on the counter top, “I think Russ would probably foot the bill for a luxury villa in Bermuda for you!”

 

Face just smiled back, “Beach house with you is all I need right now, boss.”

 

Hannibal pulled him back in, feeling the warmth of those lips on his neck. Phase one of his plan; complete.

 

____________________________

 

Phase two was a little more complicated. It involved waiting until they were just about ready to turn in for the night and then triggering his ring tone when Face was in the bathroom, making sure the kid could hear just enough of his ’conversation’ to make what he was going to say to him believable.

 

When he came back into the bedroom, Face was longing on the bed in a pair of cut off sweats, the disappointment in his eyes obvious, “He pulled our leave then?” he asked, one arm curled under his head as a pillow.

 

“Yes and no,” Hannibal lied, chucking his phone on the bedside table and crawling up the bed to rest at Face’s side, fingers just grazing his ribs. “He’s got a few things he needs from me, will only take a couple of days, can’t see why I won’t be done by Friday.”

 

“Okay,” Face put on a brave smile, “so we’ll still get a week out there then? That’ll be fine.”

 

“Well,” Hannibal watched his fingers as they trailed up and down that taut flesh, “It’s only me Russ wants, he was adamant you still get all your leave.”

 

The look on his lieutenant’s face was priceless, “Without you?! Hannibal, what the fuck use would that be?”

 

Smiling at his indignation, Hannibal traced a finger over his pout, “It would only be for a few days, kid. I’ll be with you Friday evening.”

 

“But even so,” Face was far from convinced, “what I am supposed to do out there on my own?”

 

Hannibal laughed, “There is more to life than sex you know! You could swim, suntan, read, sleep, watch that kick ass wide screen TV,” the humour was evident on his face, “it would be a good idea to maybe to do some thinking you know, as well, get all this straight in your head.”

 

“All this?” Face looked at him suspiciously.

 

“Wanting to leave,” Hannibal supplied calmly. “It’s a big decision kid, one of the biggest you’ll ever have to make. Once it’s done you can’t undo it.”

 

For a second he thought Face was just going to tell him there was nothing to think over, that his decision was made, that it was all sorted, but to his relief he nodded, his brow furrowing slightly, “I suppose so,” he relented looking back up at Hannibal, “but, hell, boss, I don’t want to leave you – I only just got you back!”

 

Hannibal’s hands were instantly on the sides of his face, holding him, making sure he could see right into his own blue eyes, “Face,” he whispered, “you haven’t just got me back, you never lost me, and you never will. Understand?”

 

A nod was the only answer he got, and he could see from the moisture swimming in the kid’s eyes that it was the only one he was going to get as well, so he pulled him in instead, just loving the way they always fitted together, like two pieces of a jigsaw, perfectly matched. They held on tightly just for a minute and then Face pulled back, swiping surreptitiously across his eyes with the back of his hand as he reached into the pocket of his sweats, “Got something for you,” he whispered, his voice think and rough and pulled out a closed fist.

 

Bringing his hand up, palm out, to meet Face’s, Hannibal gave him a mock frown, “You don’t need to get me anything...”

 

Face smiled and pressed his fist into Hannibal’s palm, opening his fingers as he did so, “S’okay, boss, it’s just something I found anyway.”

 

He moved his hand away and Hannibal felt his breath catch in his chest as he looked at the paracord bracelet nestled in his palm, “Oh,” he whispered, “I left it as a marker, I thought it was lost.”

 

“I found it again,” Face murmured in reply, his fingers shaking slightly as he picked it up and unfastened it, winding it back around the boss’ wrist, and securing it in place, “just like I found you.”

 

For a second they both lay still looking at the bracelet on the boss’ wrist, the sounds of the washing machine downstairs gloriously mundane, but then Hannibal moved, looping his hand around Face’s wrist in imitation of the bracelet and drawing him closer, “Want you,” he whispered, the need and the desire so obvious in his voice, “right now.”

 

There were no complaints from Face.

 

Phase two? Complete.

 

________________________

 

Phase three started early the next morning as Hannibal helped Face to load the boot up with his still packed bags. The kid had been wavering all night about whether he wanted to go over without Hannibal or not, but eventually the boss had convinced him. It was still with a long face, however, that the lieutenant leaned against the car door and held tight onto Hannibal’s wrist, fingers tucked into the bracelet.

 

“Three nights,” Hannibal whispered bringing his free hand up to stroke Face cheek, “that’s all. I’ll be over Friday evening, soon as I can.”

 

“Yeah,” Face looked so morose that Hannibal wondered if he was doing the right thing here.

 

“You’ll be fine,” that hand turned over and he rubbed his knuckles over a lightly stubbled chin. “Have a swim, get some sun, do some thinking about what you really want to do and we’ll talk about your decisions when I get over.” A glum nod was all he got in reply. “Oh! And get some groceries in,” Hannibal prompted him, “ _Lots_ of groceries, I don't intend going out at all over the weekend...”

 

That at least got Face’s attention, “Just the weekend, boss?” he queried, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “what about the rest of the vacation?”

 

“Well, once Murdock and BA arrive, I suppose we’ll have to show our faces from time to time. Plus you know how much BA eats!”

 

Face’s expression dropped like a stone and Hannibal frowned. Oh. Hadn’t he mentioned that bit of the vacation plans? Shit.

 

“The others are coming over?” Face asked tightly.

 

“Yeah!” Hannibal’s voice was oddly cheerful. “That okay? I thought it might be an idea to have some down time together, you know, as a team.”

 

Face smiled but Hannibal could see how empty it was, “Sounds great, boss, just peachy...” and Hannibal frowned, that emptiness was something he intended getting to the bottom of this very morning.

 

Taking Hannibal’s hand from his chin, Face kissed each of the knuckles, and with a longing glance that almost caved in Hannibal’s last enclave of resistance, he climbed into the car and shut the door, sticking his head straight out of the open window. “So, Friday then?” he clarified, fingers hovering over the ignition.

 

“Friday,” Hannibal confirmed, “soon as I possibly can.”

 

Face nodded, and with a tight smile, started the engine and slipped the car into drive, pulling smoothly out of the garage. Taking a step after him, Hannibal watched him go, a heavy weight in his chest. Phase three had hurt.

 

_____________________________

 

Hannibal was in his office by eight forty five, even though his mind was on Face, wondering how bad the morning traffic was and if the kid had made it onto Route 26 yet. He’d left messages for BA and Murdock asking them to come and see him as soon as they could, and he wasn’t surprised to hear the soft knock at nine ten that announced their arrival.

 

He greeted them openly, politely, but he knew they could sense the slight formality in his movements and that was all part of the plan, that was why he’d had this little meeting in his office and not at the house. It was also why he was wearing his class B greens instead of the more usual BDU; he might run a relaxed ship, but it was still an army ship and he wondered if everyone in his team fully understood that.

 

“Right,” he started briskly, “down to business,” Hannibal noted the quick look that Murdock shot at BA and felt a pang of guilt shoot through him; he could sense the pilot’s unease and he just hoped they could get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. “We need a thorough debriefing after the Russian mission, and having spoken to Face, there are now a number of issues I would like to discuss with the two of you.”

 

Murdock’s face paled and Hannibal could see his fingers busily fiddling with the Velcro fastening on his pocket. BA’s expression, meanwhile, simply settled into a deep scowl.

 

“Where is Face?” Murdock asked nervously, his eyes flitting round, almost as if he expected him to leap out from behind the desk at any second. “Is he okay?”

 

“He’s fine,” Hannibal assured him, “he’s taking some leave. Has a few things that need sorting out.”

 

This news only seemed to heighten Murdock’s concern while BA’s scowl deepened still further and Hannibal picked up the soft _humph_ that came from the big man’s mouth. Pale blue eyes turned on him and Hannibal looked on in silence for a moment before asking, “Problem, corporal?”

 

Silence stretched all around them before BA eventually answered, “No, sir.”

 

Hannibal held his eyes, “You sure? If you have something to say, BA, I would really like to hear it.”

 

“No, he doesn’t, boss,” Murdock put in, leaning forward in his seat now, trying to put himself between Hannibal and BA, but BA spoke over the top of him.

 

“It’s nothing. Was just gonna say how it didn’t take long for that pretty boy to go bleating to you about me did it?”

 

Murdock froze as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped about ten degrees and Hannibal sat himself up a little straighter, “By that I presume you mean Lt. Peck?”

 

BA nodded.

 

“And why do you think he would have mentioned you to me?” Hannibal’s voice was calmness personified, but Murdock’s leg was dancing out a desperate jig nervous enough for the whole room while BA suddenly started to look a little on the uneasy side as well, as if it was suddenly occurring to him that perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.

 

The silence stretched out again until eventually BA answered, “It’s nothing boss, it’s all good.”

 

There was no way that that was enough for Hannibal though, no way at all. “I’m waiting,” he said quietly, “and I won’t ask again. Why would Lt. Peck have cause to mention your conduct on the mission to me?”

 

BA frowned at the way that Hannibal had managed to flip that around on him, and realised that he had actually backed himself into a corner. Well, he pulled himself up taller in his chair, no one could ever accuse BA Baracus of lacking courage, “The LT thinks I didn’t follow his orders right enough.”

 

Murdock’s arms were now folded tight across his chest and he was desperately chewing on the skin of his finger while his foot continued to bounce frantically on the floor.

 

“And why would he think that?” BA frowned as he hit another corner. _Damn!_ How did this guy keep doing this to him? “ _Did_ you follow his orders?”

 

BA had to think about that question. _Had_ he followed Face’s orders? He certainly thought so. “Yes, sir,” he answered confidently.

 

“In a timely and appropriate manner?” Hannibal shot back quick as an arrow and that had BA floundering.

 

“His orders was wrong!” BA shot back darkly.

 

Again the temperature dropped significantly and Murdock’s bouncing was now audible in the still of the room. “Captain?” Hannibal said gently, turning his eyes from the corporal, “You are dismissed for now. Please go back to your duties and return here at 1100hrs so that we can conclude your debrief.” Murdock was obviously torn between wanting to bolt out of the door and wanting to stay with BA. He rose to his feet, eyes flicking anxiously between Hannibal and BA before Hannibal reminded him with a quiet, “Captain...” and he turned and almost fled the room.

 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Hannibal turned his eyes back to BA. “Please refresh me about the parts of your training that covered the _selective_ following of orders?”

 

BA rolled his eyes, “Oh, come on boss! He was wrong! Kid was on a tear, was gonna get us all killed with his crazy stunts! Couldn’t take the pressure!”

 

“The pressure?” Hannibal snapped in. “What pressure would that be then? Was that the pressure of suddenly finding himself in charge of the unit when his CO was compromised, or was it the pressure of his team refusing to do as they were damn well told?”

 

BA leaned forward in his seat. “He needed reeling in!” he whispered. “Man is a damn liability!”

 

“Did he find me? Release me? Neutralise the immediate threat? Get the whole team through the mission in one piece and out the other side again successfully?”

 

“Well, yeah, but-”

 

“But nothing, corporal! _Your_ behaviour on that mission nearly got you all killed!” BA frowned in confusion. “The second that soldiers start querying their commanders, answering back, dragging their feet, is the exact second that people start dying!”

 

“But he was wrong!” BA insisted, “He ordered a retreat instead of just getting you outta there straight away!”

 

“Really?” Hannibal pretended to be surprised by this news, “And what would you have done in those circumstances then?”

 

BA was relieved that Hannibal seemed to be listening to him at last, “Well, I’d've fought on!” He answered immediately, “Wouldn’t've left you with them fools for twenty four hours like he did!”

 

“Right...” Hannibal nodded calmly, “So you’d have fought on. What would you have done with Murdock while you were fighting like this then?” BA frowned. “I understood he was groggy, unsteady on his feet, needed supporting? But you’d have fought on anyway, the three of you, or would you have left Murdock on the ground somewhere are just you and Face headed up the attack?”

 

“I’da found somewhere safe for him,” BA qualified, “and then me and Face woulda got you back.”

 

“How much ammo you’d have then Bosco? Enough to shoot through twenty men armed with Kalashnikovs? You know where you were? Where you were going? You know who you were up against? What their plans were? You know where I was? Or were you just gonna go on shooting and hope you didn't hit me?” BA opened his mouth but no words came out and Hannibal pressed on. “If you’d stayed and fought then you would all be dead now, all three of you, and me as well by now. Face did the right thing, the _only_ thing that anyone could do. And you bitching and moaning about his orders could have brought the whole gig crashing down around you!” BA just looked at him and Hannibal sighed. “Bosco, you’ve been DDd once already for your attitude towards your superiors, and when I offered you this job, you swore to me those days were over, you swore your loyalty to me.”

 

“To you, yes sir!” BA exploded, “But not to that jumped up, talentless prick!”

 

Hannibal’s fist came down onto the table with an almighty thump, making coffee leap out of his cup and all over that morning’s mail, “You do not have the luxury of deciding which orders you are going to follow and from which superior officer!” he boomed out across the desk. “Lt. Peck is my XO and a damn fine one at that, the best I have ever had! You follow my orders? You follow his orders, wherever and whenever they are given! Do you understand that?”

 

BA just glared at him.

 

“Do _not_ make the mistake of underestimating him based on either his looks or _anything of a personal nature that you might know about him_ ,” Hannibal narrowed his eyes meaningfully, “or I promise you, you will regret it!” He forced himself back in his chair and took in a long deep breath. “Now, is that clear, corporal?”

 

BA was shaken by the way this conversation had gone. He had never expected Hannibal to jump to Face’s defence so viciously, but, more than that, he had never expected his own arguments to be picked apart so convincingly... “Yes, sir.”

 

“I want you on this team,” Hannibal told him, “I went twelve rounds with three separate Generals to get you back into this army, son,” BA looked up guiltily, “and I don’t intend to be proved wrong at any point in the future. But you need to get your head round this attitude you have and do as you are damn well ordered. When we are planning, when we are discussing, your input will always be listened to and appreciated, but when we are out in the field, your insubordination to me or to Face will cost someone their life.” BA held his eyes. “And don’t ever under-estimate Face. I have worked with that kid for eleven years and he still surprises me all the damn time. He is in this team because he is the best, just like you, just like the Captain, and don't you forget that. None of this is personal, BA, it’s all business, that’s the way it has to be and, if I am you're staying in the team, that’s something you will have to learn pretty damn quickly.” BA looked at the floor. “But if you push me on this one, Bosco, it will be _you_ that goes. You understand that? _Not_ my XO.”

 

Tension crackled in the air, “Yes, sir.” 

 

Hannibal reached out and moved his mail out of the growing coffee spill, deep furrows across his brow. He let out a long sigh, “You are dismissed, corporal.”

 

BA stood up and snapped off a quick salute before heading to the door. He reached out for the handle and paused, turning back as Hannibal mopped up the mess with a tissue. “I’m sorry I disappointed you, Colonel,” he said, “and I’m sorry I let the LT down. It won’t happen again.”

 

Hannibal looked up, the creases easing slightly from his forehead, “It takes a big man to realise when he was wrong Bosco, I knew I hadn’t made a mistake in choosing you.” BA nodded and turned back to the door. “Oh, one more thing,” Hannibal added, stopping him in his tracks again, “Face never said one word of complaint about you or Murdock. Not one word. He’s too busy blaming himself for every damn thing that went wrong.”

 

BA frowned, “That why he’s gone on leave then, boss?”

 

“Yes,” BA couldn’t miss the way that Hannibal’s expression darkened, “he’s having a crisis of confidence at the minute. One I hope he can get himself out of.”

 

Nodding slowly, BA met Hannibal’s eyes, “I’ll apologise to him, boss, make sure he knows I was wrong.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes were appraising, “Good,” he answered, as he returned to the task of mopping up the spilt coffee, “And if it was me, BA, you’d acted up like that with, you’d be in disciplinary procedures by now, so count yourself damn lucky Face decided to cut you some slack.” He threw the coffee stained tissue into the bin as a thoughtful and subdued BA quickly let himself out of the office.

 

_____________

 

Face felt the tug of the ocean on his shorts as the tide pulled back, trying to drag him with it. The power of the sea always awed him, how something so fluid and beautiful could be so dangerous. A smile pulled at his lips as he thought of Hannibal.

 

Diving under an approaching wall of surf, Face struck out for deeper, calmer waters and marvelled that it was Thursday morning already. The boss would be here tomorrow, that thought warmed him against the cold sea, and as much as he had missed them being together, being here on his own had been good, a chance to just relax and think. He’d slept a lot, through the day and the night, had a _Die Hard_ marathon right into the early hours, swam and body boarded, run on the beach in his bare feet, floated in the pool, just chilled really – but was still no nearer to making a decision than he had been when he got here. Maybe he was even further away, he was already missing the _purpose_ he felt as being part of the army, the knowledge that he was doing someone some good somewhere in the world, but on the other hand, the thought of getting out there and doing _that_ again was petrifying; the possibility that he would fuck up a constant terror.

 

He turned and caught a wave, laughing as it tried to bundle him upside down in its power as it swept him back towards the shore, and noticed a car parked next to his at the side of the house. He struggled to his feet in the sand, the wave tugging around his waist, trying to pull him down and shaded his eyes against the sun as he looked up. For a glorious, hopeful minute he wondered if it was Hannibal, finished early, come to surprise him, but the figure walking down the beach towards his pile of clothes in the sand was too small and slight to be the Colonel, or BA for that matter. Face struck out for the shore, lazy breaststrokes that surged along with every wave, keeping his face up out of the water as he watched the lone figure on the beach, wondering if it was Murdock, and then deciding that no, the figure was too short for the Captain too. Concern niggled at the back of his mind as he swam in.

 

The visitor had been surprised to hear from Hannibal when he did. A late night text from a man he hadn’t seen or spoken to in over six months would always concern him, but from Hannibal who was not known for his frivolous chat, it was something to wonder about. It wasn’t even as if the text had really said anything much, just that Face would be here on these dates if he wanted to call over and see him. It wasn’t an idle text though, Hannibal Smith didn’t waste his time on idle chit chat. If he was being told that Face was here on these specific dates, then Hannibal wanted him here as well – why, he had no idea.

 

As he pulled up at the front of the huge, glass and aluminium beach front property, a low whistle slipped from his lips. The Colonel was obviously getting paid a lot more than he was these days if he could afford something like this. But then, he rationalised, Hannibal didn’t have five tiny little demanding mouths to feed back home, a wife that couldn’t work due to the exorbitant price of childcare and anyway, the house was probably just rented. He parked next to a classic Ford Cougar and smiled enviously as he realised that Face still had his love of nippy little two seaters. But again, he reminded himself as he locked up his Space Cruiser, baby seats and pushchairs weren’t something that Face had to worry about at the moment, and of course, as long as he stayed with Hannibal, he never would. He turned away from the cars and walked up to the front door.

 

Just as he reached out to ring the bell, he noticed a small coloured heap on the beach, just where the dry sand started, and looking more closely, realised that it was a pile of clothes and a towel. Squinting into the surf he picked out a lone figure, diving into the pillows of white foam and smiled fondly as he headed for the path round the house. Damn kid always did have a weird sense of fun.   

 

Face hiked his shorts up as he left the water and continued to stare at the newcomer, making out his baggy tailored shorts and polo shirt, the cap pulled down low over his eyes and frowned. Only Hannibal knew he was here, and the place was so out of the way – who else would be around? He was just starting to feel nervous, he never liked being on the back foot with anything, when the mysterious visitor pulled his cap off to run his hand through his hair before shoving it back on again and holding up a hand in greeting. Feeling a real, genuine smile crack over his face for the first time since he’d got here, Face waved back. “Piper!” he called surprised to hear the sound of his own voice after all the silence, “Good to see you!”

 

________________

 

Within an hour they were sat up on the deck, beers in hand despite the fact that it had just gone eleven in the morning, and Face’s hair still wet from his post swim shower. Face was buzzing. Maybe he’d been lonelier than he thought out here for these couple of days on his own, or maybe after all the stress and tension with BA it was just good to chill out with a real old friend, someone who knew him, knew what he was like, wasn’t judging him or scowling at him or wondering why the army even paid his wages, someone who just _accepted_ him. Or maybe it was just good to see Piper. Back when he’d been in Hannibal’s unit he was probably the one that Face had got on with the best - apart from Hannibal of course.

 

He leaned over the little pile of photos that Piper had spread out over the table and shook his head, “Five, Pipes, I mean, _five_! Where the hell do you keep them all?”

 

Piper almost choked on his beer as he laughed, “They are _children_ , Face, not hamsters! We don't _keep_ them anywhere!”

 

Face waved his hands dismissively as he studied the photos, “You know what I mean! You must have one hell of a kick-ass house to fit that little lot in!”

 

Piper took a swig of beer and thought of his pokey three bedroom brownstone in Jacksonville, currently drowning in diapers and bottles of formula and toys and shook his head casting his eyes around the sleek and stark interior of the beach house that even Face’s usual clutter hadn’t managed to ruin. “You have no idea. Maybe hamster cages are a good idea...”

 

Glancing up at him, Face frowned, “But you’re happy, yeah, with this lot? You love kids.” Way back before Face’s time with Hannibal’s unit, that was how Piper got his name, the way that, whenever they were on manoeuvres, the local kids used to flock around him, ‘Like the Pied Fucking Piper of Hamlin,’ Hannibal had remarked dryly one day and the nick name had stuck.

 

“Of course!” the look on Piper’s face was genuine and Face turned back to the photos reassured, “It’s just not the way we would have planned it, that’s all.”

 

“You never heard of birth control then, Pipes?” Face teased.

 

“Well, it’s not that we didn’t want another kid, we just didn't bargain for a triple package...”

 

Face smiled still examining the photos, “So, go on then,” he prompted, “introduce me again.”

 

Piper put his beer down and picked up one of the photos, genuinely pleased that Face was showing such an interest in his family, “Okay,” he said holding out a picture of a girl who looked about eight, “Megan you know.”

 

She had been a new born baby when Face had been drafted into Hannibal’s unit, “Man, she’s growing up! Looks just like her mom.”

 

Smiling proudly, Piper nodded, then shook his head, muttering in an undertone, “Got her mom’s sharp tongue too.” Face smiled as Piper showed him the next photo. “Lottie, you also know.”

 

Face took the picture from him and ran his finger tip over the chubby face smiling up at him, “She’s beautiful too,” he told Piper putting the picture down next to Megan’s.

 

“Well, _she_ takes after her godfather,” he told Face, kicking his shin under the table. “Who, incidentally, should stop sending them such extravagant presents at Christmas time...”

 

Face shrugged, “Well, it’s not like I’m ever going to have any of my own, so why I can’t I buy crazy presents for yours?” he remarked easily.

 

Piper looked sideways at him, hearing just a touch of longing in that sentence, but when Face didn’t look back he moved onto the next picture, “And these,” he said heavily, “are the reason I have to work so much damn overtime.” The photo was of three blanket covered lumps in a triple buggy, each one with a different coloured bobble hat sticking up on top, “Aaron, Jacob and Caleb,” he said pointing to each in turn.

 

After studying the picture for a minute Face shook his head, “Sorry, bud, but I can’t really see anything...”

 

Reaching back onto the pile, Piper picked up three separate pictures, each of a smiling baby laid on a blanket, “Erm, Caleb,” he pointed at the first one. “No! Jacob. Hang on... yeah, Jacob.”

 

Face laughed. “You can’t tell them apart?”

 

Looking totally confused and rubbing at his forehead, Piper laid them out on the table next to each other, “Oh, they are fucking identical Face! Identical triplets! Of course I can’t tell them apart! All babies look alike to me anyway!”

 

“You’re their father! And you’re a paediatrician!”

 

“That means nothing!” Piper protested hotly, “In hospital they all have these names tags on... and they are just so similar...!”  

 

“I bet Ellie can tell them apart,” Face teased.

 

“Oh, she can... So can Megan and Lottie! They have my life over the fact that I can’t.” He looked at the pictures again, “Ellie puts them in the same colours every day to try and help me out, but...” he trailed off miserably.

 

“You can’t remember each colour for each baby?” Piper shook his head. “That’s priceless!” Face laughed, “Wait until I tell the boss!”

 

Piper watched him laughing again as he picked his beer back up and drained it in one go, then wiped his mouth before setting the bottle down and taking a deep breath, “So, what’s going on with him then Face?” he asked quietly, “Why isn’t he here with you now?”

 

Face’s laughter died away and he carefully picked up each of Piper’s photos, stacking them together neatly and setting them down in the middle of the table before he eventually answered. “He sent me here to have some time to think about things, that’s all.”

 

“Right.” Piper frowned, “So everything is okay with you two then?”

 

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, feeling the stubble beneath his fingers, Face thought about that. “Yeah,” he eventually replied. “Yeah, it is. It’s – other things going on.”

 

“Thank Christ for that,” Piper muttered reaching another beer from the cooler under the table, “when he told me to come out here I thought he might want me to do some marriage guidance with you. Can’t think of anything worse...”

 

An ironic smile flitted across Face’s lips, “So, he told you to come over and see me then?”

 

Piper looked up, was that hurt he saw in his friend’s face? “No! Not really, he sent me a text that’s all, said you were here this week and if I wanted to meet up, to just come over.”

 

Face nodded, “But, you knew what he wanted?”

 

“Of course I did... You know the boss, there’s a plan in everything...”

 

“The thing is though,” Face leaned back in his seat and looked out over the ocean, “if he’s sent you here, he obviously wants you to say something in particular to me, so what might that be then?

 

Piper looked up and met Face’s eyes, the same bright blue as the sky, “Well, why don't you tell me what’s weighing on your mind so heavily that the boss has sent you all the way out here by yourself, and then we’ll see where it goes from there, hey?”

 

There was a long silence as Face stared out at the horizon and Piper stared at him and seagulls wheeled above them before Face eventually said, “I want out, Pipes, I can’t do this Army shit anymore.”

 

If Face had been looking at his old friend he would have seen the surprise that flashed across his face at that news, quickly replaced by an expression of puzzlement, “Why?” he asked gently.

 

Face dropped his head into his palms and Piper knew that he was forcing back the tears. He waited in silence, knowing that Face never appreciated being pushed, and pushing him when he was upset could more than likely end up in an explosion of some kind. “I just can’t,” he eventually whispered.

 

“Where did you get that bullet wound on your belly?” Piper asked instead, remembering the livid red bullet track he’d seen across Face’s stomach as he came out of the sea earlier on.

 

“Pulling the boss out of some attic somewhere,” Face replied without looking up.

 

“The boss got caught?” Face nodded, “And the mission went south?” Another nod and Piper let out a long breath, “So you suddenly think you don’t make the grade anymore?”

 

“There’s more to it than that,” Face replied quietly, “I handled everything wrong... it was a total fucking disaster.”

 

Piper could see the tears standing on Face’s eyelashes and felt his heart tighten for him, “You got the boss out though?”

 

“I did, but people died.”

 

“Good people or bad people?”

 

Face looked up, his expression bleak, “Innocent people...”

 

Piper let out a long breath, so of course, that was it exactly. He knew Face’s aversion to killing, knew how the kid would throw up even if he’d killed a hostile trying to take them all out with a rocket launcher, and Piper was there with him on that, even more so since he’d become a fully qualified doctor. Was that why Hannibal wanted him here? To commiserate?

 

It seemed that Face was on the same train of thought as he was, “So, now I want to leave. That’s probably why Hannibal sent you over, because you _have_ left, you know? You can tell me what it’s been like.”

 

But Piper frowned, that didn’t seem to make sense to him at all. “Face, does the boss _want_ you to go?”

 

Face considered this for a moment, “Well,” he answered slowly, “he’s not really said. Said he would back me up either way. Even said he would leave with me if I went...” Face smiled ironically at the image of a domesticated Hannibal in his head.

 

“He loves you so much,” Piper whispered, one of the very few people in the world who would ever speak like that about them both, who saw what they had as something more than sex, “I can’t think for one minute he really wants you to leave. So why would he send me out here? Me, who is glad I’ve left, who has finally found the thing that suits me.” _Saving, rather than killing_ , he had almost said, but Face didn’t need to hear that right now.

 

“I don’t know what he thinks, all I know is it was the first mission I led with this new team he’s put together, and I made a huge balls-up. Maybe _he_ thinks I don’t cut it anymore.”

 

Piper shook his head, _that_ was a preposterous thought, he knew that Hannibal had never rated anyone as highly as Face, ever. “But you got the boss back! So it wasn’t a complete disaster! And what about the mission objectives? You get any of those?”

 

Face shuffled awkwardly, “Maybe...”

 

Piper recognised that look, “You got them all, didn't you?” Face nodded. “So, I fail to follow why that makes it a complete disaster!”

 

“It was the _way_ it all went! It was like I was lurching from one fuck-up to the next the whole damn time!”

 

“You measuring yourself up against the boss, there Face?”

 

A shrug was all he got as Face went back to his beer and Piper watched him, his mind a busy whirl. And suddenly it was there, the answer he’d been looking for, why the boss wanted him here with Face, the story he wanted him to tell. He leaned over the table, “Look, he’s not perfect you know.”

 

Face’s eyes flashed over at him, “I’m not some wide eyed recruit, Piper, I know he’s not.”

 

Piper ignored him, “He had to start out somewhere as well, he had to struggle to make the team work, to make those decisions that got the job done.” A shake of the head was all the response he got. “He did, Face.”

 

“Not like this,” Face insisted, “I’ve had eleven years to see him in action Piper, and he has _never_ been like I was, never.”

 

Now it was Piper’s turn to shake his head, “Kid, I’d been with him for six years before you even showed your cute rookie face with us. I know what it was like in those early days for him, I was there. _You weren’t._ ” Face just looked at him. “And that’s why he wants me here, he wants me to tell you.”

 

____________________________

 

The sun was staining the sea a burnt orange colour as Piper took a long drink of slightly warm beer to ease the ache in his throat from talking for so long. He looked over at Face who was frowning as he gazed out at the sea and Piper knew he was processing everything he’d been told, weighing it all up, preparing a verdict and wondered which way the kid was going to fall. He’d said very little as Piper had told stories all afternoon of his early days with the boss.

 

About Major Grant McInnerery who’d been so peeved that Hannibal had been promoted above him that he’d gone out of his way to undermine every mission that Hannibal led, every order he was given, until he’d taken that insubordination one step too far and almost got them captured. Then Hannibal had finally stepped in, bawled him out and started disciplinary procedures, ending up with his being permanently reassigned.

 

The trouble in Panama when their intel was wrong and they mistakenly attacked a convoy of villagers trying to flee the fighting.

 

The time when Bunter was first assigned as XO and found trouble at every corner with Hannibal’s unorthodox style, was constantly quoting rules at him and questioning his decisions.

 

That Marine Colonel who took exception to the fact that Hannibal had busted one of his guy’s chops in a bar in Manila after seeing him man handling a local woman, and tried to get even with the unit every chance he had for six long months.

 

Face rubbed his eyes tiredly, but Piper could see he was not convinced, “And come on, buddy,” he prompted, determined to do the job that Hannibal had wanted him to do, “things weren’t plain sailing when you arrived either!” Face looked over, thinking hard. “You remember you had that fight in the shower block with those two thugs from 3rd Infantry? How the boss didn’t let you explain, just chucked you in the stockade, started court martial proceedings on you? Was that one of his best decisions?”

 

Face frowned, “He didn’t realise...”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause he didn’t ask!” Piper put in. He wasn’t a huge fan of bashing Hannibal, but he hadn’t been a huge fan of him then, either. He remembered when the boss had shown up in his quarters after finally discovering that Face had been preventing some new recruit from being raped and eventually signed the kid out of the stockade. Face had been badly beaten, stinking and mistreated, still only a teenager and Hannibal had left him with the MPs for three whole days without checking on him once... As Piper had stitched and cleaned him, he’d constantly thrown dirty looks Hannibal’s way, knowing damn well that the boss was aware how he felt about the whole mess.    

 

“And Somali?” Piper prompted, “You remember that dead end gully the boss led us up? Made us target practice for those rebels?”

 

“He didn’t know there had been a landslip, Piper!”

 

“Cambodia? You saved his ass there Face if I remember rightly.”

 

“He had to go back, Bunt was shot!”

 

“Iran? Jesus, Face, you barely made it out alive after that FUBAR, and you certainly weren’t all in one piece!”

 

“Alright!” Face snapped, the disastrous mission in Iran the last place he wanted to be right now. “You don’t have to drag all this shit up! Hannibal is a good CO, the fucking best!”

 

“I know...” Piper soothed, leaning in across the table to Face. “You don’t need to tell me that, I know he is. He’s the very best there is, and _things still go wrong for him, Face!_ Don’t you get that? Don’t you see that’s the point I am trying to make!” Face met his eye, “The difference is, when things go wrong for the boss, he puts them right, or he makes sure he has the people around him who can put it right for him. People like you, kid.”

 

Face slumped down in his seat and Piper knew that, at last, his point was taken.

 

“None of that matters though,” Face’s voice was small, far away sounding and even though it was starting to get dark, Piper knew the tears were back. “I just don’t think I can do it anymore.”

 

Piper frowned, “ _It_ Face? You keep saying, _it_. What exactly is that?”

 

“You know Piper...” Face whispered out towards the beach, “You of all people know exactly what I mean.”

 

There was a long sigh of defeat as Piper leant back in his chair, “The killing?” He saw Face nod, and scrubbed a hand through his hair, “The boss know this bit?”

 

This time Face’s head shook. “How could I tell him that, Piper? That I’m too chicken-shit to kill anyone?”

 

“Face, you aren’t too chicken-shit for anything.”

 

“I can’t kill.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Face closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his clenched fists, “Every time I close my eyes I see them there...”

 

“The civilians?” Face nodded and Piper leant forward again, “What happened Face? How’d they die?”

 

There was a pause, “I slit their throats...”

 

Piper winced and was glad Face wasn’t looking at him. “Why did you kill them?”

 

Face blew a long breath out and stayed staring at his thighs as he answered. “They were hunting us.”

 

“I hardly call that innocent!” Piper exclaimed.

 

Face’s head flew up, “They were farm boys Piper! They’d been press ganged into this private fucking army, forced to carry guns, forced into hunting us down!”

 

“And they’d have killed you!” Piper interjected, “Come on, Face! You _know_ they would have done! You had no choice.”

 

Face’s head fell into his hands once more and his voice drifted across the noise of the surf to Piper’s ears, “I think I know that, really, but... it still doesn’t change what I feel. I just don’t think I can do it anymore.”

 

Finally, Piper understood the problem, “You think you will freeze up in the field?” He watched as Face nodded miserably. “You need to tell the boss.”

 

“I can’t!” Face’s voice was full of such misery that Piper actually winced. “What will he think of me then?”

 

“The same thing he thinks of you now.” Piper said firmly, “You know how he feels about you. You know he loves you.”

 

“I’d be letting him down.”

 

“Not telling him is letting him down.”

 

Silence fell and Piper watched as Face just sat, head in his hands, misery coming off him in waves. Piper’s heart ached in sympathy for him, but he just didn’t know what to say. Minutes ticked by until Piper shivered as the breeze from the ocean picked up a bit. “C’mon Face,” he broke into the silence, “I’m starving,” the frozen pizzas that Face put in the oven a few hours ago seemed a dim and distant memory now, “There’s a bar I drove past a couple of streets back, let’s go get something to eat.”

 

Face looked up, sadness swimming in his eyes, “You don’t need to get back to Ellie and the kids?”

 

Piper shook his head, “No, you got me all night if you want me!”

 

The relief in Face’s expression tugged at Piper’s heart and he was glad he had said that; it was worth the awkward phone calls he would need to make to Ellie to say he was staying over and then to his mother to see if she would go and help with the night feeds just to see that look of relief. Ellie would be fine he reasoned as he wandered down onto the sand to make his phone call as Face went to get changed, she, much like the entire female population, had always had a soft spot for Face, and his mother would love a chance to spend more time with the triplets. And even if they weren’t, there was no way on earth that he was leaving Face alone tonight, not after the afternoon of soul searching they had just had. No way at all.

 

______________________

 

By the time that Face had come downstairs dressed in his jeans and a long sleeved navy t-shirt he seemed a bit brighter. But then, Piper reasoned as they walked along the sidewalk to the bar, that was what Face had always been good at, hiding himself behind a wall of illusion, letting people think they saw the real him when in fact all they saw was an act.

 

“What did Ellie say?” Face asked as they crossed the road.

 

“Oh, she was fine,” Piper reassured him, “she says ‘Hi’ by the way and to remind you that you have never been to our new house for a visit yet.”

 

Face laughed, “How would I fit in with all the damn hamsters?”

 

Piper shook his head in amusement. The phone call with Ellie had started off very badly indeed, she’d had a rough afternoon with the babies, and then Lottie had been playing up with her food, refusing to eat unless Piper was there. She’d been less than amused when he said he was staying over night, even the fact that he’d already lined his mom up as help hadn’t really placated her. It was only when he’d mentioned how down Face was, how he didn’t want to leave him here on his own overnight that Ellie had, annoyingly and rather predictably, melted. 

 

Her snippy tone of voice had instantly disappeared, replaced instead by one of utmost concern and care for Face. Piper had answered all her questions calmly and accurately, but inside he was just so relieved that both he and Face had had a drink so that neither of them were able to take her up on the suggestion that they drive back to Jacksonville straight away and then Ellie could talk to Face, sort everything out for him. He wasn’t going to tell Face that though.

 

They took seats by the window, the outside eating area empty due to the wind that was picking up more as the night drew on and ordered more beer and steaks. Piper kept the conversation deliberately light, he told funny baby stories, including the one where one of the triplets, obviously he wasn’t sure which one, had peed in his eye while he was changing his nappy, then funny hospital stories, Face’s favourite by far the child who had managed to lock themselves in the room where the tannoy announcer usually sat and spent an hour making personal comments about all the staff that had annoyed him during his extended stay in the hospital.

 

Then it was Face’s turn. Living with Murdock produced tonnes of material for funny stories and by the time they’d finished eating, Piper was holding his ribs and laughing so much he was crying, desperate for Face to introduce him to the pilot.

 

Face stretched back in his seat feeling better for a good meal and some light conversation. He looked at his watch, “It’s getting late,” he told Piper, “shall we head back?”

 

“Sure,” Piper agreed folding up his napkin and putting it on his plate, “Did I see an Xbox back at the house? You want me to kick your ass on Halo again?”

 

Face laughed, “You wish, buddy! Murdock’s been training me - I rock!”

 

Piper returned the smile, so glad to see Face happy again, even if it was only for a few hours.

 

“But first,” Face told him pushing his chair back, “I need to take a leak, back in a few.”

 

_______________________

 

It was only five minutes later, as Face tried to persuade the hot air blower to come on so he could dry his hands, that the whole evening turned upside down. One second Face was listening to the polite murmur of conversation outside, the sound of the wind as it blew through the trees, the distant surf pounding up the beach, and the next he only heard gun shots, screaming, panic.

 

His first thought was to get out there, see what the fuck was going on, but then he realised he wasn’t armed, was no doubt outnumbered, could hear the yells of ‘Get on the floor, hands on your heads!’, ‘Touch that phone and I’ll blow your fucking head off!’ and instantly made his decision.

 

He darted into a cubicle, leaving the door open behind him as he climbed up onto the cistern and lifted one of the ceiling tiles up and out of the way. In a flash, he pulled himself up into the roof space, keeping to the joists to avoid falling through the flimsy tiles, and managed to tuck his legs out of the way and slide the tile back into place just as the door burst open and a gunman came in, obviously checking for stragglers.

 

Face crouched in the roof space, hardly daring to breathe as he watched the gunman through a crack in the ceiling tile. He was dressed all in black, black balaclava covering his face, only his eyes staring out through the purpose built holes. Satisfied that the toilets were empty, the man withdrew, crashing out into the corridor and Face could hear his footsteps as they retreated back into the main area of the bar.

 

Pushing out a long, deep breath, Face forced himself into that calm state he needed to take a shot on a job; there was no shot to be taken here, but he needed that empty mind, that stillness, to be able to sort out what had to be done. He couldn’t see anything anymore but he could hear, and he started sifting through all the facts he had, noting what he knew, what he didn’t, exactly as Hannibal would have done.

 

From what he could hear, there seemed to be three different voices, all men, all armed and masked he had to presume, all dressed in black. Why they were here he still didn’t know, but he had heard them shouting for all the diners in the bar to get into the middle and get on the floor. There had definitely been shots and screaming, Face could hear the sounds of barely suppressed sobbing now, and wondered if that meant that someone had been shot. He needed to get closer; he needed to find out for definite what was going on. He couldn’t even think about Piper yet.

 

Leaning forward, Face tested the strength of the ceiling brackets. If he could shift forward through the crawl space he could get right on top of the gunmen, see exactly what was going on. But as he leaned forward, the tiles creaked and bowed under his weight and he knew they wouldn’t hold him. Reluctantly, he prised the tile back out of the ceiling and slipped down into the washroom. He crept to the door and put his ear against it, his hand feeling the lack of a weapon of any kind, and listened carefully.

 

There were voices, muffled and angry sounding, but not anywhere near him, so with a deep breath he cracked the door open and peered out into the corridor, it was clear. He took a deep breath then slipped out, his trainers silent on the tiled floor and tentatively approached the corner where he knew he would have a clear view of the bar area. Flattening himself against the wall he leaned forward as far as he dared and took a good look.

 

To his right was the kitchen, open plan and overlooking the main customer area. It was deserted now, a gas ring burning all to itself, food and dishes spread across the floor. To the left of centre was the dining area, now with all the tables and chairs pushed back into the corner and the few remaining customers and staff herded into the very middle. Face’s stomach clenched as he saw the slumped figure laid in a rapidly spreading pool of dark red blood, brown eyes open and staring out at nothing. He recognised him instantly; he’d been sat at the next table, a young guy, maybe early thirties who was out with a woman. Hearing the sobbing, Face’s eyes flicked to its source and saw the same young brunette, crying piteously into the arms of an older woman, he felt his anger stir within him.

 

The three gunmen were stood with their backs to him, facing the hostages and the unlucky victim. They seemed to be arguing about something and Face took a risk, scuttling across the head of the corridor and into the kitchen area, creeping forward until he was right behind them, only the service counter separating them.

 

“ – well, I don't see what the fuck difference that makes anyway! Not since you shot that guy!”

 

“I had to! We are supposed to be hiding out here! If he’d got out that door he’d have gone straight to the cops!”

 

Face pushed himself closer and managed to see the huddled men through the gap between the counter and the ice cream fridge.

 

“ _Hidin_ g you fuck wit! But since the whole fucking street heard your shots it’s only a matter of time until the cops show up here!”

 

“Enough!” This was the third voice, and Face could see it belonged to the biggest man, “The pair of you are lucky I don’t just put a bullet through your stupid heads right now! This was supposed to be a simple money job; as soon as you idiots killed those cops at the junction you got half the state on our tails!”

 

Silence fell and Face could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, if these guys had killed cops then they would be desperate, nothing else to lose now, very, very dangerous...

 

“We are here to _hide until the heat dies away!_ Nothing more! We keep quiet, keep our heads down, when it goes quiet, then we take one of these bozo’s cars and get the hell out, right? That’s all we do, keep this lot quiet and let the cops assume that we have left the area.”

 

“But what if the cops know we haven’t left the area?” the first guy hissed.

 

“They don’t know anything for sure, but they’ll presume we’re long gone. Who would be stupid enough to stay in a dead end joint like this?”

 

Two of the men laughed but the third wasn’t convinced. “But what if they do find us? What if they find that woman’s body, know we took her car, trace it here?”

 

All semblance of laughter instantly disappeared, “Well, we have plenty of hostages, we start shooting one by one until the cops decide to let us through. I’m not going back to prison for anything – not a damn thing! You got that?” The big guy held the eyes of the man who had queried him and waited until he nodded before he continued, “Now, get your ass out of that back door and see what’s out there then barricade it all up, I don't want any surprises, right?” The first guy nodded and moved back down the corridor out of Face’s view while the others separated, going one either side of the hostages, their automatic weapons trained on their huddled captives at all times.

 

Once the men had moved away, Face had his first glimpse of Piper. He looked untouched, but grey and worried, the fact that he hadn’t even tried to help the poor guy who’d been shot told Face that it must have been an instantaneous kill. One of the gunmen went and stood right next to him and Face stiffened, not liking how close Piper was to the gun’s muzzle.

 

Blue eyes flashing over the hostages, counting them, looking at the guns, checking out the distance to the door, noticing obstacles and cover, Face began to plan, wondering if Piper could take down that second guy if Face could only get to the first. If they struck soon while the third gunman was out the back then maybe they would be able to overpower them both, maybe the third guy would make a run for it then, possibly some of the other hostages might join in...

 

But just as these thoughts were starting to crystallise in his head, blue lights suddenly started flashing on the walls of the room and a voice, distorted by a loud hailer, sounded in the darkness.

 

“Leroy Bennett. Jude Pasco. Lawrence Cobb. This is Tybee Police Department. You are surrounded by armed officers. Put down your weapons and come out with your hands on your heads!”

 

There was a second of stunned silence before the big guy, the guy nearest Piper, jumped into action. “Pasco!” he yelled “Get that back door sealed, NOW! Bennett, cover these morons!” Then he leaned forward and grabbed the woman next to Piper on the floor by her hair, dragging her to her feet and standing so they were clearly visible through the open window. “Back off!!!” he screamed, and Face could see two or three officers as they crouched in the outdoor eating area, guns at the ready and his heart sank, they didn’t look like a SWAT team to him...

 

“Back off!!” Cobb shouted again, “Or I’ll shoot her! You know I will!”

 

Face’s heart was pounding as he quickly reassessed his plan. The third guy, Pasco, was still out the back, so that just left Cobb and Bennett. Bennett looked nervous, training his gun backwards and forwards over the hostages as they cowered before him, more of them crying now, the woman in Cobb’s arms whimpering.

 

“Back off!!!” Cobb sounded frantic and Face swore under his breath, knowing he had to make his move NOW,  in less than ideal circumstances. But just as he tensed to make the dash across the room towards Bennett’s gun, there was an ear splitting bang and he stared in horror as Cobb threw the lifeless, blood-soaked woman away from him and grabbed Piper, hauling him up as a shield in front of him and yelling at the police again.

 

“I told you! I fucking told you!!! Now back off or I’ll do it again! Ten seconds!!! Nine... eight... seven...”

 

“Jesus Christ!” Face muttered under his breath and quickly crossed the kitchen, keeping down behind the counter, adrenalin firing through his veins, knowing he had to do this now, on his own, that this guy was a psycho, wasn’t waiting... Piper didn't have the time for him to wait.

 

“Good!” Cobb shouted and just as Face got to the end of the counter he paused and risked postponing his assault to sneak a look at what was happening.

 

The police had fallen back, no doubt to wait for specially trained officers now, and Cobb had halted his countdown. Piper was on his knees in front of the gunman who was crouched behind him, gun jammed into his neck, obviously watching as the police fell back. Face ran his eyes over his friend as was relieved with what he saw. No one ever wanted to be in a position like this, but Piper had faced death before, he was pale, but looked reasonably calm, and Face knew he would hold it together.

 

Face ducked back down into the kitchen and let out a long silent breath; without Piper to back him up he needed a new plan. He wouldn’t be able to count on any of the other hostages, after watching two cold blooded murders now, half of them were sobbing and most of the others looked like they were in shock. Pasco was still nowhere to be seen, and Face knew that that was where his only chance lay, in getting the one man on his own.

 

Creeping back down the corridor, Face peered into the stock room at the back to find Pasco feverishly piling boxes and crates up against the reinforced steel door. He must have heard the shooting from the front and was in a panic, probably expecting the police to come barging in the back door at any second. Face knew they wouldn’t though. They already had the death of one hostage on their hands, they would not risk another.

 

Moving quickly and decisively, Face was behind Pasco in two silent steps with a well timed elbow to the back of the neck, the gunman was unconscious on the floor. Moving quickly, Face stripped his weapons, mask and black jumper off before binding and gagging him and shoving him down the gap between the wall and the freezer. Next he stripped off his own top and replaced it with the black jumper, pulling the balaclava on over his head, making sure none of his errant curls would slip out of the back and give him away, before jamming the automatic pistol into the belt of his jeans and pulling his mobile phone out.

 

“Yes,” he hissed into the mouth piece, “put me through to the guy who is in charge on the ground at that hostage situation on Tybee Island.” He rolled his eyes at the standard answer he was given and moved to the other side of the store room so he could see the entire corridor. “Don’t give me that shit! I know there is a hostage situation because I am in the fucking middle of it! Now put me on to whoever is in charge right fucking now!”      

 

There was a minute’s wait before a voice snapped onto the line, “This is Abe Frank, Chief of Tybee Island Police. Who am I talking to?”

 

“My name is First Lieutenant Templeton Peck, United States Army, 75th Ranger Regiment. I was a patron in the bar over on Tybee Island tonight when it was taken over by three armed men. I am currently in the store room at the back of the bar having over powered and incapacitated the hostile called Pasco. He was armed with a Glock 17 which is now in my possession. There are fourteen live hostages in the main eating area of the bar, with two gunmen. The gunmen both have semi-automatic pistols, the guy near the door, a Berretta, the guy at the back of the room another Glock. Two hostages have already been killed and if they see you coming in again, then they will not hesitate to kill another. Do you understand that?” Face paused for breath as he flicked cautious eyes back down the corridor to the bar.

 

There was a pause at the other end of the line before the voice said, “Are you one of the gunmen?”

 

Face rolled his eyes again and hissed frustratedly through his teeth. “No! I’m not a fucking gunman! Didn’t you listen to what I just said?”

 

“I listened loud and clear sonny, and I don't like that attitude you are taking with me. Now, if you’re not a gunman then why do you have a gun?”

 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me...” Face kicked the wall in frustration. “Because I have taken it off the gun man I overpowered! I just _told_ you that!”

 

There was another pause, “You expect me to believe that you single handedly overpowered a man armed with a semi-automatic pistol? Who are you, one of the X-Men?”

 

Face didn’t have time for this. “No you dick head,” he hissed into the phone, “I am an Army Ranger like I said, and I do this shit for a living! Now, are you gonna start taking me seriously or is there someone with a bit of sense I can talk to?”

 

“I’m afraid you aint gonna be talking to anyone, sonny, how do we know you are who you say you are?”

 

Face took a huge deep breath and forced himself to be calm; whoever this dickhead was, he really needed believe what Face was saying here, he needed to make sure those cops didn’t come any closer to the bar.

 

“Right,” he breathed, “you need to get in touch with General Russell Morrison up at Fort Benning, and he will vouch for me. But I _am_ an Army Ranger, and I am telling you that if your men come any closer to this bar then those idiots will start shooting again. Do you want any more blood on your hands?”

 

There was another pause, and the sounds of the phone being passed about, Face frowned and was about to just give up and disconnect when a different voice came on the line, “Lt. Peck?”

 

He glanced nervously back up the corridor, “Yes?”

 

“Captain Marc Schmidt here, I am the forward officer for the Crisis Negotiation Team out of Atlanta.”

 

“Thank Christ for that...” Face breathed, and he heard Captain Schmidt laugh.

 

“I’ve been listening on speaker, and your intel is going to be crucial in getting this thing finished without any more innocent loss of life.”

 

“You need to keep those officers back...”

 

“I know, I read you and don't worry, no one will be moving until the SWAT team get here.”

 

Face nodded to himself and felt his pulse drop a notch, “Okay, so what do you want from me?”

 

“Nothing,” Face’s pulse started to race once more, “we appreciate everything you have done so far, but this is not a military matter, you need to sit tight and wait for the specialists.”

 

Face tried not to let the word ‘specialist’ irritate him too much, “Listen Captain...”

 

“Lieutenant,” Schmidt cut across him, “find somewhere to hide, keep your head down and wait until we come and get you out. Charging around in there with two loonies and a gun of you own is only going to get people killed.”

 

Face felt the phone digging into his hand from where he was holding it so tightly.

 

“Can you do that for me, Peck? Find somewhere out of the way and keep your head down?”

 

It was hard for Face to answer as his teeth were grinding together so tightly but somehow he managed. “Yes, of course.”

 

“Good. Well thanks a lot for your help. Team should be here from Atlanta in about two hours, meanwhile I need to make contact with their leader. Thanks again.” And then Face was left holding the phone, silently fuming in the dark storeroom.  

 

He stood still for all of one second before his plan was fully formed in his head. Schmidt wanted Face to keep out of the way? He knew exactly how he could do just that very thing...

 

_____________________

 

Within five minutes Face had pushed all of the boxes away from the door once more and made his way back out to the front of the bar. Cobb looked up at him as he wandered in as casually as he could, dressed in the gunman’s jumper and balaclava. “That door sorted?” Cobb barked and Face nodded, feigning interest in checking the hostages to cover not answering out loud.

 

Fortunately, Cobb was so highly strung by the whole evening that he didn’t give Face more than a passing glance, instead returning to watching outside through the blinds, still using Piper as his human shield. “What the fuck are they doing out there?” he whispered, and Face leant nonchalantly against the bar, noticing the tremor in the gunman’s hand and wincing.

 

Suddenly the phone on the bar rang and everyone jumped out of their skins, Cobb spinning around, his gun digging right into Piper’s neck. Face was nearest to the phone and all eyes fell on him to answer it. Slowly, and with just the right amount of trepidation, he reached out, lifting it from its cradle. “Yes?” he kept his voice low, not wanting to give the other gunmen chance to hear that he wasn’t their accomplice. He smiled behind his mask at Marc Schmidt’s even tones before tossing the phone over to Cobb. “Wants you,” he growled and started to breathe a little easier when Cobb moved the gun off Piper in order to talk.

 

His sense of ease didn't last too long however; within minutes Cobb started getting frustrated. Face watched in concern as he threw his hands up in the air as he listened, the fingers on the gun white with tension. “No!” he eventually spat. “You listen to me cop! I know what you are doing here, I know the way these things work, how you are supposed to make me think you are my friend, how you give me something to gain my trust and then you start suckering me, playing me for the fool and as soon as I take my eye off the ball you have a marksman out there shoot me through the head, right?” Face stood up straighter, frowning under his mask and surreptitiously weighed the unfamiliar Glock in his hand, wondering how well it fired.

 

“Well, fuck the lot of you!” Cobb snarled down the phone, “You have ten minutes to bring a car around here for us to leave in, or this guy gets a bullet in the skull, right? Now, negotiate on that, you fucker!” and he threw the phone across the room where it smashed into tiny pieces against the wall. Face watched in grim dread as Cobb told Piper to put his hands up on his head and open his mouth, then he put the barrel of the gun in through his lips and looked at the clock on the wall. “Six hundred seconds, mister,” he told Piper coldly, “that’s all you got left, so you better enjoy them!”

 

Bennett stood at the far wall, nervously passing the gun from one hand to the other and Face made a snap decision. With a quick movement, he back heeled a stray spoon down the corridor so that it hit the store room door with a crash. He glanced around as if startled and Cobb looked over at him, not moving the gun from Piper’s mouth, “What the fuck was that, Pasco?” he hissed. Face just shrugged. “Go and see!” Face turned and disappeared.

 

The second he got back into the storeroom, Face called the police again. “This is Lt. Peck again,” he hissed into the phone, “put me on to Capt. Schmidt immediately.”

 

This time he was put straight through, “What is it Peck? I’m busy negotiating with Cobb right now.”

 

“You are not just negotiating with anyone!” Face retorted. “Not only has he hung up on you, but he’s also smashed the phone, so you won’t be calling back!”

 

There was a pause, “And how do you know that?” Schmidt’s voice had a bite to it, “you are supposed to be hiding in a cupboard somewhere!”

 

“Hiding’s not my style,” Face murmured into the mouth piece, “I am on the inside I am telling you that unless you get a car around here in,” he glanced at his watch, “seven minutes, then another hostage dies.”

 

“He won't do it.” Schmidt answered quickly.

 

“He will,” Face countered, “they have escaped from prison, killed at least five times already, two of those kills being cops, and I guarantee they have no issues about doing it again.”

 

“Fortunately for you though Lt., you don't have to make that call. Now get back to your cupboard and let the experts deal with this.”

 

“Experts?” Face spat, “How many of these do you do a year then, Schmidt?” The silence was telling. “Or is this your first one ever?” Still Schmidt didn’t answer. “I spend my life training for situations like this, _living_ situations like this, and I’ll tell you something, I’m fucking good at them, so why don’t you just do yourself and all these innocent hostages a favour and let _me_ handle this?!”

 

“Lt. Peck!” Face could hear the anger in Schmidt’s voice, “Do not engage the hostiles! Do you hear me? You do not have the authorisation, do _not_ -” but Face just switched his phone off. He took a deep breath, willing himself to concentrate and think his way out of this mess that Piper was in. He looked at his watch, five minutes. Fucking hell... He closed his eyes but all he could see were those happy family snap shots spread out over the table on his deck; the two beautiful little girls, one with eyes like mommy, one with eyes like daddy; the three coloured lumps with bobble hats in their pushchair; the smiley babies on the rug, a husband and wife looking at each other with love in their eyes...

 

His eyes snapped open again and he checked the clip on his Glock. These were _not_ going to be Piper’s last five minutes on this earth; Face was _not_ going to let those kids grow up without a dad, Ellie have to go on without a husband, not a chance in hell. 

 

_________________________

 

 

Four minutes later Cobb was sweating profusely, shouting for Pasco and shaking badly, while Bennett paced up and down at the side wall muttering frantically under his breath the whole time. The footsteps running unsteadily along the corridor towards them made them both startle, Cobb yanking Piper to his feet in front of him while Bennett just turned his gun on the corridor, his hands visibly shaking.

 

It all exploded in the blink of an eye. Suddenly a man appeared from the corridor, bare-chested, a flour sack tied over his head, his hands tied behind his back, running at an unsteady jog. Bennett, nerves stretched to breaking point didn’t think, and three shots hit the guy’s bare chest in rapid succession, flinging him against the wall just as Face rounded the corner behind him, balaclava gone as he skidded across the floor on his legs, the Glock speaking once and Bennett going down with a hole in his chest.

 

Cobb’s shots hit the tiled floor just as Face skidded across it, and he was safely behind the cover of the counter before the lone gunman had chance to get a good bead on him. Outside, Face could hear the police moving closer in, Schmidt’s voice over the loud hailer trying to make contact with Cobb, but Cobb was too aware of the trouble he was suddenly in. Keeping his gun on Piper, the gunman dragged his hostage down the corridor and into the store room at the end obviously making for the rear exit.

 

Fortunately for him, Face had cleared the boxes away from the door, hoping that the SWAT team would arrive and make an assault from the rear, so within a minute he had it open and was stepping out into the night, gun still pressed against Piper’s head.

 

Face hadn’t really anticipated it going like this. He could hear the police storming the front of the bar and the renewed screams of the terrified hostages and stalked Cobb, determined not to let him get away with his friend.

 

“Freeze,” he barked as soon as Cobb was in his sights, “let him go and I won’t shoot.”

 

“You think I am bothered?” Cobb yelled back, his voice on the edge of hysteria, “I’d die rather than get caught!” All the time he was backing out, dragging Piper with him, a delivery van on the far side of the yard getting closer and closer. “But I don't intend dying either!” he snarled. “So you’d better back the fuck off or this hostage gets it!”

 

Face paused. He knew that if he didn't stop, Cobb would shoot, but if he _did_ stop, Piper would end up driving that van and would be found in the morning on the side of the highway somewhere, bullet through his head, and he wasn’t prepared to let either of those things happen.

 

“You better make your mind up!” Cobb yelled. “Cause if those cops turn up and I’m still here, this guy gets it, okay?!”

 

Face knew he had seconds to make a decision and he squinted through his sights at the target. Cobb wasn’t stupid, he was right behind Piper, not enough of him showing anywhere to give something reasonable for Face to shoot at, there was only one option left open to him...

 

He steadied his hand and squeezed the trigger, hearing the shot and seeing Piper collapse to the ground in a shower of red at the same time as he heard his friend scream out in agony. Cobb had no choice but to stare in horror as Piper fell at his feet only milliseconds before the Glock barked twice more and his own chest exploded in blood right in his face.

 

At almost the same second the shout of “Police! Drop your weapon!” Had Face instantly dropping his pistol and lifting his hands up over his head, but not before he felt searing fire scorch through his arm, an almighty thud in his back and he hit the ground hard, losing consciousness instantly.

_________________________

 

When Face woke up he was disorientated to say the least. His head was pounding, his arm felt like it was on fire and when he tried to move he realised he was shackled to a chair. He lifted his head and blinked away the fog to find that he was in the centre of a room, empty apart from a wooden table. No windows, single light  bulb, reinforced steel door. _Definitely not the Hilton then_ , Face thought dryly to himself.

 

He went back over the events in his mind as he remembered them... Cobb making a break for it,  Face shooting Piper... He winced, not one of his better moments that. He just hoped that it was as clean a shot as he’d aimed for and that Piper would eventually see that he had no real choice... Then he shot Cobb and then the cops arrived and then, Face glanced down at his arm where he could see blood soaked into the wool of his ‘borrowed’ jumper and the fresh white dressing. “The bastards shot me!” he remarked out loud, appalled that he’d been shot even though he’d dropped his gun as instructed. It was a good job they were lousy shots...

 

So, if that was the case and he had been shot by the Tybee Island Police Department, then where the hell was he now? And why did he ache all over his damn body?

 

He pulled at his shackles and wished they’d fastened his wrists together instead of fastening them to the chair arms; he’d have been out of these damn things in seconds then.

 

The naked bulb was making his head pound even harder than before so he dropped his chin down onto his chest and closed his eyes, letting the blackness just claim him once more.

 

____________________

 

It was hard to tell how much time had gone by before he was rudely awakened by a hand in his hair lifting him upright, forcing his head back so that the bulb burnt into his retinas.

 

“What the fuck?” he slurred, struggling to open his eyes against the glare and then feeling his head snap around with a sharp backhand.

 

“Shut up, sonny,” a vicious whisper hissed in his ear, “you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do here!”

 

Face forced his head up, even though the pain made him want to scream, and tried to see past the bright light through his blurred eyes to his tormentor.

 

“You think your pathetic cover story of being an army boy would get you off the hook did you? You are facing, amongst other charges, six counts of murder and three of attempted murder, and since the accomplices you shot are in a pretty bad way, then that might just rise to eight counts.” The voice chuckled, “You are on your way to death row for sure sonny!”

 

Face shook his head, totally incredulous, “You are kidding me right? Is this ‘Candid Camera’ or something?”

 

This time the voice didn't laugh, “Don’t you wish it was? But so far the only witnesses I have spoken to place you as one of the gunmen, dressed in black just like them.”

 

Suddenly things weren’t looking so funny, and Face forced himself to think before he spoke. “But of course I was dressed like them,” he still had no idea where he was, who he was with, “I was pretending to be one of them so I could get close to them!”

 

“Oh, yes, very convenient, sonny... But Schmidt told you to stay out of the way, so why would you do the exact opposite unless you were in on it from the start?”

 

“In on it...” he trailed off and shook his head wincing at the way it made his brain spin faster. “I wasn’t in on anything, I was just out having a few beers with my buddy.”

 

“Would that be the same buddy you just shot? Glad I don't have friends like you.”

 

“I had to shoot him, Cobb was trying to abduct him, and I couldn’t get a clear pop at him with Piper in the way!” Somehow, even as the words left his mouth, Face knew they sounded implausible at best.

 

 “Really? I think it’s more likely that you and your buddies were all planning on taking off out the back door with the loot, and then you decided to go solo. Shot the other two, were just about to disappear when the boys in blue caught up with you. That sound about right?”

 

Face felt sick to his stomach. “You don’t really believe that.”

 

“Doesn’t matter what I believe, sonny, what matters is what I can make stick on you.” Face closed his eyes in despair, he had just placed the voice of the man in the room with him and realised that things were looking pretty bleak indeed.

 

 “Police Chief Frank,” he asked resignedly, “I am under arrest here then?”

 

Frank pulled back into the shadows, seemingly perturbed that Face recognised him, “Not yet, but I can sort that out just as soon as you like. You keen to get yourself off to jail then? Heard what happens to pretty little things like you in there have you?”

 

Ignoring him, Face took a deep breath. “It’s just, I know my rights,” he whispered, “I am entitled to a phone call and a lawyer and I’m saying nothing else until I get one.”

 

The light shining in his eyes hid the punch until it smashed into his face with so much force he slumped sideways out of the chair. Before he even had time to catch his breath he was being hauled upright again, hot, tobacco-sour breath in his face, “You will be lucky to get chance to pee here, sonny! This here is my town and what I say goes.” Face tried to pull away from him but he was held fast, hard fingers digging into the bullet wound on his arm, grinding into the damaged flesh, enjoying the feel of warm blood creeping around his fingers and the look of pain in Face’s eyes. “An’ if you make trouble for me here, then you might end up being one of those unfortunate ‘suicide in custody’ statistics, what do you think about that?” Face’s blood ran cold, “Yeah, I can see that you are exactly the type who would manage to hang themselves before their brief even arrives, eaten up with the guilt at letting your regiment down with your get-rich-quick scheme. So, what do you think, sonny? Certainly tidier aint it?”

 

Now Face was downright scared. All the bad shit he’d waded through in his lifetime, and who’d have thought it would be some fat, balding, crooked Police Chief that finally saw him off? If it wasn’t such a terrifying possibility it would be funny. “Fuck you...” he whispered instead, determined that this loser wasn’t going to see how scared he really was and was expecting the blow to his head even as it came.

 

“I can see you are going to be trouble,” Frank whispered right into Face’s ear as he held him up by his hair, “I think it would be a good idea to give you a hand with that noose as soon as possible, it’s such a shame no one thought to take your belt off you, someone on the front desk is going to get into big trouble about that at your inquest...”

 

Face writhed against the cuffs on his arms as he felt Frank’s fingers fumbling his belt undone and sliding it out of his jeans. “This is bullshit!” he hissed, “You know I had nothing to do with that robbery or those murders! And no one else will believe I did either!”

 

“No, but like I said, it’s tidier this way. And anyway, doesn’t matter what anyone believes about you, there will be no proof either way.” The belt was free now and Face felt Frank’s fingers pushing it over his head, slipping it around his neck, pulling it tight and he knew he had very little time left.

 

He moved like lightning, his head coming down to butt straight into Frank’s nose, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone and cartlidge, while he brought up one leg, pulling his knee back into his stomach and lashing out, catching Frank in his ample gut and projecting him across the room into the wall. It was a valiant effort, breaking the Police Chief’s nose and putting a significant dent in his ego, but also, unfortunately, stoking his anger as well.

 

Frank wiped the blood from his nose onto the back of his hand and advanced on Face, his eyes narrowed slits of fury. “You little bastard...” he whispered, “you’ll pay for that.” Face tried to get his foot up again, but Frank shoved the table over, ramming it into his ribs and following through with a volley of blows to the side of the head. Face tried to roll with the punches, tried to keep the fog from his mind, but it was hard, the damn belt was tight around his neck and just as he began to worry that he was going to lose consciousness altogether, Frank stopped.

 

Eventually, Face managed to straighten up himself this time, forcing air down his throat past the tight ring of leather, hearing echoing shouts ringing in his ears as a result of the blows. He tried to shake them away, clear his head, but they just got louder, and then his head started to pound like fists on a door, and then just as he realised that the noises were real, the door burst open, flooding the room with bright, natural light. Face turned his head away from the white hot agony of the light spilling over him and heard Chief Frank’s voice, high pitched with something like fear as he tried to cover his tracks, “Oh, thank god...” he spluttered, “he just went mad when I was trying to interview him! He’s assaulted me, broke my nose! I’d just managed to restrain him with these cuffs when you got here...”

 

Face tried to object, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate and he was having trouble holding his head up at all. The black fuzzy edges of his mind were creeping inwards but he wouldn’t let them, all he knew was if he let go now and let himself slip into the dark then those bastards would have him hanging by his own belt from the light bulb within five minutes and Hannibal would think he had left him.

 

He forced his head up and tried to focus on the shape that was heading straight for him now out of the melee of bodies in the room but the glare from the corridor was too much and he screwed his eyes shut again, dropping his head back onto his chest. He focussed on the cacophony of voices, sifting through the shouting and yelling all around him, trying to pin down one voice, one word that might tell him just what the hell was going on here. Then, just when it was all getting too much and the despair was building to bursting point, there was a hand on his cheek, and another in his hair, then the belt around his neck was loosened and there was a voice at his ear and all was right with the world.

 

“It’s alright kid, I’ve got you...”

 

____________________________

 

Hannibal was furious, more so than Face had seen him in a long, long while, but even that was nothing compared to General Morrison who had police chiefs quaking in their boots and the Georgian Governor scrabbling to make amends for the way that Face had been treated. And then there was poor old Piper, struggling around on his crutches, face pinched in pain, who had contacted Hannibal as soon as he realised that Face had just dropped off the face on the earth at the resolution of the siege.

 

But Hannibal had sat on his anger and let Russ manage everything, making sure, instead, that he was there for his boys; getting Piper to finally sit down, letting Ellie come in and take him away for some much needed rest, and taking Face back to the beach house, refusing to let anyone else anywhere near him and not leaving his side for one single second once he had found him in that miserable interrogation room.

 

Face was glad to be back, and let Hannibal help him up the stairs to the master en-suite, sitting heavily on the toilet seat as the boss started running the bath. He sat in silence, just enjoying watching Hannibal potter around in the washroom, pouring bubble bath into the tub and mixing it up, feeling his eyes growing heavy with the stream of the room.

 

He suddenly realised that the boss was watching him as he nodded on the toilet seat and felt a tired smile spread over his face.

 

Hannibal shook his head and started peeling the blood soaked black jumper off him, taking care over the flesh wound on his arm and the massive bruise on the front and back of his rib cage where he was taken down by two police officers. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes can I?” Hannibal asked, the mock exasperation clear in his voice.

 

Face grinned, “It’s all part of the plan, boss,” he whispered, tiredness creeping up on him with alarming speed. “If I can’t look after myself then you will never want to leave me on my own.”

 

The boss’ soft chuckle warmed his heart and he let himself be eased out of his jeans and socks, then finally his boxers before Hannibal gently helped him into the bath. He hissed as his various scrapes and bruises announced themselves in the water, then relaxed as the heat did its job and soothed him to the verge of sleep.   

 

He was vaguely aware of Hannibal’s hands on him, a soft, soap lathered flannel taking away the grime and the dried blood but before he knew it, he was being shaken gently awake, and the boss was helping him to stand, wrapping him in soft towels and leading him to the bedroom.

 

Face was surprised to see that it was broad daylight outside and he squinted against the warm yellow sunshine as Hannibal rushed to draw the blinds. “What day is it?” he muttered, rubbing at his forehead to try and break up the pounding headache he still had.

 

“Saturday morning,” Hannibal replied once the room was in soothing darkness, “but don’t worry about it kid, you need some sleep, we both do, so get under the covers.”

 

Face didn’t need asking twice, he was barely awake as it was and hauled his aching limbs under the duvet, feeling Hannibal helping him in, smoothing the sheets down, covering him back up, and then sliding in, his own long, firm body like an anchor against the turbulence of the last few days. The last thing he was aware of before he slid off into sleep were strong arms pulling him close and a fierce kiss to his temple and then blessed emptiness.

 

_______________________

 

Face slept all through the day, and it was thick black night before he jerked wide awake, visions of himself in a bar, attempting to shoot at farm boys who were in turn trying to steal Piper’s daughters while BA chased after him with a noose for his neck, vivid in his mind. He swung his legs off the bed and sat with his feet flat on the floor and his head in his hands, concentrating on his breathing and trying to just calm the hell down a bit.

 

“Hey,” Hannibal’s voice, balm to his taut nerves sounded in his ear and he felt the boss slide in next to him, a hand on his shoulder pulling him close, “you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Face was mortified to hear his voice shaking and he felt Hannibal’s arm tighten on him in response, “just a dream.”

 

“You want to talk about it?” Face shook his head and got to his feet and Hannibal wasn’t surprised, the kid rarely wanted to talk about his nightmares.

 

“I need a drink,” he said instead and headed off for the kitchen.

 

Hannibal followed him in silence and guided him to one of the tall stools at the breakfast bar before he started making sandwiches and pouring mango juice and letting Face have a bit of time to get his head together. “What time is it?” Face asked, completely disorientated by the last few days.

 

“23.15,” Hannibal replied as he pushed a sandwich over to Face and sat down opposite him with one of his own.      

 

Face nodded and ate in silence and Hannibal ate as well, watching Face closely with every mouthful. When they had both finished, Hannibal cleared the plates and took them over to the huge wicker sofas that looked out at the dark ocean. He settled them both into the cushions, Face’s head in his lap, long legs stretched out in front of him and dragged a blanket off the back to throw over Face’s bare skin before he spoke the words that had been bubbling in his mind ever since Piper had put them there.

 

“You could have told me,” he spoke softly, not wanting Face to get defensive, “how you felt about killing.”

 

Face let out a long sigh and closed his eyes, letting his head sink heavily into Hannibal’s thighs. “I’m sorry, boss, I didn’t want to say anything to you until I was absolutely sure it was going to be a problem.”

 

Hannibal frowned, “And is it? I mean Piper said you were worried that you would freeze on a job, wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger, but... well...”

 

“I didn’t seem to have much trouble the other night did I?” There was a streak of dark amusement in his voice that made Hannibal uncomfortable.

 

“Look kid,” suddenly Hannibal’s hand was in his hair, smoothing and stroking and feeling like it was taking every bit of stress away with every touch, “I don't want to rush you, I want you to do the right thing for _you_ here. I’m sorry I tried to push you into your own command, I’m sorry I wasn’t approachable enough for you to tell me how you were feeling.” Face opened his mouth to object at that point but Hannibal pressed his finger tip onto his lips, effectively silencing him. “I just want you to be happy kid, I really, really do. I _will_ leave the army with you if that’s what you want, and we can go off and do something different together-”

 

“Hannibal,” Face sat up and twisted against his bruised ribs to look at his boss, “It’s okay. I’d never make you leave, I know how much this life means to you.”

 

“It doesn’t mean as much as you do,” Hannibal’s hand was on his cheek.

 

“I know, boss,” Face smiled at him, “and it will be okay, I’ll sort this in my head,” he took a deep breath; “I’m not leaving.” The relief on Hannibal’s face was so apparent that Face felt nothing but guilt at everything he had put him through this last week. “It seems that maybe I don’t find killing as hard as maybe my conscience would prefer...”

 

That dark humour was back and Hannibal frowned, pulling Face back to lie against his chest, “You didn’t kill anyone at that bar, Face. Piper says the dead gunman was killed by one of the others, and both the guys you popped are still alive. Hopefully they will be able to stand trial for what they’ve done.”

 

Face thought about that in silence for a few minutes. “Couldn’t save those two hostages though...”

 

“No.” Hannibal had seen the photos from the scene, the two dead bodies soaked in their own blood. “But goodness knows how many others you saved. Piper for one. I listened to the tapes of the calls you made, Face, if you’d left those numbskulls to deal with it, it would have been a bloodbath.” He’d also been warmed by Face‘s words to Schmidt, ’ _I spend my life training for situations like this, living situations like this, and I’ll tell you something, I’m fucking good at them, so why don’t you just do yourself and all these innocent hostages a favour and let me handle this?!’_ Those words, more than anything else had given Hannibal the hope he’d needed that Face wasn’t going to turn his back on his life with the Rangers.  

 

“And I _shot_ Piper...”

 

Hannibal couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle as his hand slipped down to Face’s chest, toying idly with one of the warm brown nubs he found there. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo, Piper knows you did what you had to, and it was as clean as it could be, just flesh, no bone, no muscle, no major blood vessels. You did good.”

 

“Hmmm,” Hannibal could feel Face relaxing into him, his weight a delicious pressure against his own swelling cock.

 

Hannibal’s hand drifted to the other nipple now, gently teasing it to life. “In fact everything you did was good, Piper’s in awe of you, Russ is telling everyone who’ll listen your one of his...”

 

“And you?” Face’s voice was a breathy whisper and Hannibal knew without looking that his eyes were closed, his lips flushed and slightly parted.

 

“And me?” Hannibal slowly and purposefully reached down with both hands and folded the blanket back, smiling at the way Face’s sleep shorts were tented. “Well, I am so ridiculously proud of you,” he slid his fingers under the waistband of the shorts and lifted them up, over Face’s erection, and slid them down the leanly muscled thighs as far as he could reach. “And of course I love you,” Hannibal’s right index finger stretched out and trailed a teasing line down the smooth hot flesh in front of him as Face dropped his head, watching with wide eyes as the boss touched him. “And I’m so relieved you are safe...” He couldn’t say unhurt, not when his eyes could still see the dark blue bruising on his chest and the white dressing over his bicep, not when he’d seen his poor bruised face and the red welt around his neck, his swollen eye and bleeding mouth. But now he was in his arms and _safe_ and that was as much as any of them could ever hope for at any one time.

 

“But do you want me?” Face whispered, his eyes fixed on the boss’ hand as just the very tips of his fingers ran up and down his eager cock.

 

Again Hannibal laughed and Face felt the twitch of a trapped erection beneath him. “You need to ask?” he replied. “Of course I want you. Every second of every day I want you, kid. In every possible place and circumstance and position. Always. You are all I ever want, you are my own personal addiction.” His hand slid properly into place now, fingers wrapping tight around hot flesh, Face’s moan of pleasure and relief shooting straight through to his groin.

 

“So, are you going to take me?”

 

Face’s voice was rough with need and Hannibal felt a surge of love for him, realising that he was drifting again, his ties had come loose and he needed Hannibal to reel him in once more, show him where he belonged, where his home was, who needed and wanted him, and Hannibal would do that for him, of course he would. Always. “Yes...” he whispered, feeling Face shudder against him as he slowly stroked up and down, thumb reaching up to rub across the smooth head and spread that little pearl of moisture out.

 

“How?”

 

Hannibal thought about this, thought about all the things they had done in their years together, all the things they still had left to try, and, more importantly, what Face needed tonight to make him feel secure. “I’m going to take you upstairs to the bedroom, and spread you out on the bed, and then I am going to touch you and love you all over your body until you are desperate in your need for me,”

 

“I’m desperate now,” Face interjected and Hannibal laughed again.

 

“Oh, this is nothing, dear boy, nothing at all...” he slid his free hand down onto Face’s balls and began to roll them gently in his fingers until Face was writhing in his grip, his ass grinding down onto Hannibal’s own raging erection. “And when you are ready I am going to push inside you, all the way, as deep as I can go and then I’m going to love you, slow and deep and hard and fast, taking it in turns until you don’t know what day it is...” Face tried to push himself up into Hannibal’s hand but Hannibal moved with him, keeping his strokes light. “And then I am going to make you come,” he whispered right into Face’s ear, “come all over yourself and all over me as I come right inside you. Would you like that?” Face nodded wordlessly, his hips twitching with every stroke of the boss’s hand. “You ready to move upstairs now?” he asked and again Face nodded but didn't move a muscle, not until Hannibal pushed him up, dragging his shorts back into place and adjusting his own pyjama bottoms to better accommodate his own erection. “Upstairs then,” he whispered, “and I want you on your back on that bed, naked and waiting for me when I get there, understand?”

 

Face just nodded once more, mouth dry and eyes wide and blown with arousal. Hannibal stroked his cheek with one finger and then smiled as he turned and started to lock up and turn the lights off for the night.

 

_________________________

 

He opened the bedroom door and the sight that awaited him almost blew his mind. There was just one lamp on, at the far wall, spreading a muted yellow glow across the rest of the room and Face was laid on the bed as Hannibal had instructed, naked as the day he was born, propped up in a nest of pillows, one knee bent up at the side, hands laid loosely on his stomach. Hannibal’s feet stuttered to a halt in the doorway and he stood still, staring, incredulous yet again that this image in front of him was _his_ , that Face wanted and needed him just as much as he wanted and needed Face. The whole situation was incredible.

 

“Boss?” the uncertain edge to Face’s voice brought him back to earth with a jolt and he realised that he’d been staring, and that Face didn’t like it when he stared like this, how it unnerved him, made him think of people who’d looked at him like that and then _taken_ from him... people who Hannibal would cheerfully strangle if he ever had the opportunity.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, crossing the carpet between the door and the bed in quick strides, “you just took my breath away laid there like that, so, so beautiful...” Face looked up at him, still, after all this time, unsure about the truth of Hannibal’s words, so Hannibal did what he always did in these situations, set about showing him.

 

Kicking off his pyjamas, Hannibal climbed onto the bed and sat across Face’s hips, making sure he trapped the hot erection underneath him. He shuffled his weight, looking at the week old bullet wound on his stomach and the bruising to his chest, “Okay?” he asked softly, and Face just nodded, eyes wide and trusting.

 

Hannibal wanted to sit and look some more, but could tell that Face would freak out at that so leaned forward instead, slowly, slowly moving in, holding Face’s eyes the whole time sliding both of his hands round his neck, brushing the livid red welt that still made his blood boil, and eventually weaving into the soft curls at the back of his hair and once his fingers were in place, he finally reached down to claim his mouth. Face opened up instantly for him and Hannibal moved forward, sealing his lips over Face’s and sliding his tongue inside the welcoming warmth. Hannibal loved to kiss, always had, but he loved to kiss Face more than anything. The kid was so responsive, the way his tongue tangled with Hannibal’s the way he sucked on the older man’s bottom lip, the way he arched up into the kiss, pressing himself up into Hannibal, offering himself up, holding nothing back, it was heaven.

 

Hannibal could have quite happily stayed there all night, but he had promises to keep and so he slid down, tasting the slight salty tang of the nightmare on Face’s skin as he ever so gently kissed and laved at the raised red mark encircling his boy’s neck, forcing down the murderous thoughts that insisted on trying to surface and ruin the moment. He dropped lower and traced the line of a collar bone from left to right, tasting and nipping before using his tongue to soothe at the worried skin. He felt Face’s hands, warm and smooth, skimming over him, kneading his shoulders, carding through his hair, filling him with heat with every single touch. “I love you,” he whispered to Face’s chest, finding his way by touch alone to the raised heat of a nipple, waiting patiently for Hannibal’s tongue to claim it.

 

“God, I love you too, boss,” Face gasped, his hands in Hannibal’s hair now as he arched his back, trying to shove his nipple further into the teasing mouth that encircled it.

 

“I don't know if I ever thanked you,” Hannibal whispered, blowing over the wet nub, watching it rise to attention under his gaze, “for coming after me in Russia...”

 

“Oh!” Face hissed as long fingers pulled at the peaked nipple as Hannibal’s mouth trailed across to the other one, “Always, boss... you know that...” he breathed back. “And you came for me yesterday, always have done...”

 

“And always will,” Hannibal left his hands playing with the two hard peaks now as his mouth dropped down to the red line across Face’s stomach, kissing its way along from right to left. “Wherever you are, it doesn’t matter,” he spoke between kisses, “I will always come for you.”

 

“Yes...” Face whispered as that mouth moved lower, tracing the sharp line of a hip bone and Hannibal felt a warm rush of happiness at the thought that Face was convinced, that the kid could feel happy and settled in just how much he meant to his CO.

 

“You want me to suck your cock?” he asked, making sure his voice had that growl in it that he knew Face loved and watching in amusement as said cock leaped in response to his words.

 

“God, please...” Face breathed, his eyes tightly closed and his hips writhing as he fought to keep control.

 

Hannibal smiled and slid down so that he was kneeling on the bed between the kid’s legs, taking a moment to stare at the heavy red cock before he started on his task. He flattened a huge palm against the inside of each warm thigh and gently pushed, spreading Face open before him, encouraging the kid to draw his knees up so that, if Hannibal leant down, he could see the dark pink rose bud opening, just lying there waiting for his attention...

 

 _Later_ , he reminded himself and instead ran his fingers up the furrows between thigh and buttock, one hand mirroring the other, and then tracing them back across, skimming lightly through the fine hairs nestled around the base of that straining cock, and down, reaching in at the same time to cup cool, sensitive balls.

 

“Oh, Jesus...” Face muttered, thrusting his hips up off the bed as Hannibal’s fingers slipped down to his perineum, pushing firmly into that space just behind his balls and then back up again, whispering over the tightening skin. “I thought you were going to suck me, boss,” he gasped, “not try and do me in here and now!”

 

 “I am going to suck you,” Hannibal ducked his head making sure the breath from his words fanned out over the wet head of Face’s cock, “just as soon as I am ready...”

 

“Be ready now...” Face pleaded, and Hannibal, not wanting to hear him beg tonight, not wanting to give him anything less than everything he wanted as soon as he wanted it, instantly dipped his mouth, swiping the leaking tip of the cock in front of him with the flat of his tongue.

 

“Yes!” Face hissed, pushing himself against Hannibal’s tongue and his boss smiled, always so, so, enthusiastic his boy. Did wonders for his ego...

 

Settling himself comfortably between Face’s legs, Hannibal went to work. He rested on his left arm while his right hand held the base of Face’s cock, keeping it still so his tongue could lavish attention on it. Starting just above his gripping fingers he reached out with his tongue and started flicking backwards and forwards over the sensitive vein, loving the feel of it against his tongue and marvelling at the way that Face’s thighs twitched with every sweep. When he reached the top, he pressed hard with the very tip, circling around and around the smooth slope of the corona, listening to the tiny breaths that Face was taking in.

 

Hands slid into his hair and he smiled as he realised that Face was somehow managing to hold himself back from just pushing him down to suck in his whole cock, he wondered how long that resistance would hold... Taking pity on the kid he reached up a little and started sweeping wide circles over the smooth head and around the prominent ridge, watching out of the corner of his eye as the muscles in Face’s thighs bunched at the feeling. He slipped the very end of his tongue into the dark slit, feeling the hot salty liquid leak out onto him as he swirled it over the head, pulling back to look at his handy work, the pulsing red cock, and the smooth head, shining wetly in the lamp light.

 

“Boss...” Face whined and Hannibal looked up, seeing his lust drenched eyes and his dampened hair, the curls, well defined in the moisture, sticking to his forehead.

 

“I know baby...” he whispered and immediately dropped his head, taking Face all the way in, angling himself so that the head of Face’s cock nestled into his cheek. He let his tongue flick out again, backwards and forwards over the vein as he dragged his teeth over the sensitive crown, listening to the long keening moan Face made as two rows of teeth scraped across his skin and then Hannibal let the whole cock slip out of his cheek and into his throat, swallowing against the head and Face bucked up once more, swearing profusely as Hannibal repeated the swallow again and again.

 

Keeping his head exactly where it was, forcing his gag reflex down, Hannibal squeezed tightly with his hand at the base and brought his tongue back into play, swirling and licking, flicking and teasing in time with the movement of his throat and the twitches of Face’s hips. Then, just as the fingers in his hair stared to get a little too insistent, Hannibal pulled back, ignoring Face’s whine of disappointment and latching himself tightly around the head instead.

 

Now, he started to suck, sealing his lips around the hot flesh he sucked with all his might, pulling back a little and sliding back on, hollowing his cheeks and gripping the straining cock tightly with his fingers he pulled and sucked, lifting his eyes to watch Face’s head, cheeks flushed, pink lips, wet and open, eyes closed, lashes fanned out across his skin, as he writhed backwards and forwards on his pillow, every second tugging him closer and closer to where he wanted to be.

 

Hannibal timed it perfectly, easing off on the suction so that he kept Face right at the very edge as his hand grabbed the lube from the edge of the bed and he expertly opened it one handed, pressing the nozzle of the tube just into the firm opening and squeezing, enjoying the way that Face twitched and moaned at the feeling of the cool lube squirting up inside him. Then, with another quick squeeze, Hannibal’s hand was covered in the gel and he was quickly slicking himself up, all plans to open Face slowly up with his fingers and tongue completely abandoned in favour of just getting himself in there now, taking Face while he was poised on the very edge of heaven like this, totally oblivious to everything apart from the feelings that Hannibal was stringing through his body.

 

Intent on keeping his mouth in place for as long as humanly possible, Hannibal shuffled onto his knees, almost snapping himself in half to keep that sucking pressure going. Then at the last minute he moved, pulling himself off with a slurping ‘pop’ that was as loud as he could possibly make it, his cock was in place and sliding into position before Face had had chance to slip too far away from his promised high. Hannibal didn’t push all the way in, he felt the tight ring of muscle breach around the swollen head of his cock and he stopped, moving backwards and forwards in tiny little thrusts, tormenting the sensitive ring of muscle with the widest part of his cock, stimulating Face back onto that precipice even as his hand took over where his mouth had left off, stroking the hot pillar of flesh, squeezing over the head and pulling back down, pumping hard and in perfect time with the stimulation of the tight ring.

 

Face made a strangled sound and thrust his head back into the pillows, his hips coming up and his hands gripping onto the sheets for dear life.

 

“You like that?” Hannibal whispered, rubbing himself backwards and forwards over that muscle as Face just writhed below him, but he knew the kid couldn’t answer, knew he was so, so close to the edge now, that Hannibal was just holding him there, not letting him slip back down but not letting him pitch forward into ecstasy either.

 

Hannibal would have loved to hold Face like this for the entire night, keeping him gasping and sweating unable to string a coherent sentence together, his whole body primed for an orgasm that was just, just out of his reach, but the strain was getting too much for him now. He could feel the burning fire in his thighs as he moved so slowly and so minutely inside his lover’s body. He could also feel the head of his cock starting to become too sensitive, the constant stimulation sliding more towards ‘too much’ so he shuffled his knees into a more comfortable position, checked his angle and slid right in, all the way, feeling the beautiful jolt of his balls hitting the smooth skin of Face’s butt.

 

Face cried out and lifted his hips and Hannibal accepted the invitation, pulling out again and slamming straight back home, over and over again as Face moaned underneath him, his prostate taking its turn for stimulation and pushing him right up against that edge once more.

 

“Oh, God!” he cried, heels digging into the mattress, pushing himself up to meet Hannibal’s thrusts as Hannibal’s hand finally brought him over the edge, milking the come from his desperate cock, making him spill all over them both as he had promised, and then emptying himself as well, closing his eyes as his come streamed out from inside him, flooding his boy and rushing home.

 

_____________________

 

Neither of them could be bothered moving or cleaning up much. Hannibal had grabbed one of the scatter cushions from the end of the mattress and given them both a quick wipe over before throwing it across the room, then he’d simply hauled the sheet over them both and settled Face against his chest, right where he fit the best.

 

“You okay, kid?” he whispered, valiantly holding off from sleep for the moment.

 

“Of course,” Face replied, sounding much more awake than he really had the right to.

 

“No,” Hannibal said, lifting up and looking at him, “I mean are you _really_ alright?”

 

Face thought about this, wondered which of many ‘alrights’ Hannibal could mean. There was the ‘was that sex okay?’ alright which would be a definite yes, but then there was the, ‘are you hurting?’ alright which was a little harder to answer as his chest was sore, his arm throbbed, his head still pounded and the ligature mark around his neck hurt like fuck. On another level completely was the ‘are you going to have any more nightmares tonight?’ alright, to which the answer was probably, ‘no’ as he was too damn knackered, and there was still the ‘are you riding out the adrenalin high?’ alright after the siege and the debacle at the hands of the local police; he would have to answer ‘no’ to that one as well, his adrenalin had long gone on that front and he felt he was in a good position to put that whole incident behind him now. So that just left the much more troublesome, ‘are you certain you are going to stay in the army?’ and ‘how do you feel about getting back into the saddle with BA?’ alrights.        

 

Face was just thinking about these when he felt Hannibal’s fingers on his arm, tapping gently, reminding him he needed an answer and he suddenly realised that the boss had actually meant _all_ of those alrights... So – how to answer...

 

“Face...” the boss was starting to worry, so Face looked up and met his concerned blue eyes, smiling up at him and holding his gaze still.

 

“Yes,” he answered steadily, “I will be.”

 

And Hannibal understood. There would be no quick fix here, bullet wounds and nightmares would not disappear overnight, and neither would bad feeling and insecurity. But that wasn’t to say that they wouldn’t disappear at all, all it needed was a bit of time and a lot of effort, and anything was possible, as long as they worked as a team.

 

And that was the thought that pulled Hannibal into a deep and peaceful sleep that night, knowing, that despite everything, all the personality issues, all the teething difficulties, he had the basics of a damn fine team here. The very best, and one day soon, they’d get there. He just knew they would.


End file.
